


The Courtship of Maddy's Father

by beetle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dad!Poe, F/F, M/M, Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Written per Sleepingwiththesoldier’s prompt: (http://sleepingwiththesoldier.tumblr.com/post/139366735945/otpandkids-person-a-is-looking-on-dating-sites) Person A is looking on dating sites for a girlfriend/boyfriend, when they meet Person B, and they hit it off fast. They build a great relationship over time, until A suggests meeting up in person. Unable to keep it a secret any longer, B confesses to A after meeting up that they have a child(ren). It’s up to the author if things go downhill from there or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Courtship of Maddy's Father 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Warnings: Vague spoilers for Episode VII.

“Papa?”

 

Poe Dameron, up to his elbows in sudsy water, didn’t look up from the previous days’ worth of dirty dishes, but he shifted his attention to his daughter nonetheless. “Yeah, Jelly-bean?”

 

“Can I tell you something? And you won’t get mad?”

 

Brow furrowing, Poe sensed he might want some eye-contact for this particular conversation. Or at least to not be wrestling with the caked-on grease from the previous night’s attempt at making Hamburger Helper-assisted stroganoff. So he rinsed his arms free of suds, turned off the tap, and dried his hands on a dishtowel that was surprisingly clean. At least, it hadn’t yet acquired that faintly mildewed smell some of the others had.

 

Reminding himself that this weekend was definitely a laundry weekend, first and foremost, he turned to his daughter, and smiled. She smiled back, showing the gaps in her teeth and the clump of chewed-up waffle in her mouth, and Poe laughed, rolling his eyes. Maddy looked like her mother, from the wavy dark hair, to the round, dark-brown eyes. But her smile and her sense of humor? Were all Poe.

 

“Sure thing, Jelly-bean. You know you can tell me anything.”

 

Maddy’s brow furrowed, now—something else thing she got from Poe—and she took another bite of her Eggo waffle. A _huge_ bite that was surprising for a girl so small. Then she put the waffle down on her syrupy plate and began licking her fingers clean in-between chewing.

 

“Weeeeeell,” she started, with her mouth full and her thumb jammed in next to this bit of chewed up waffle. Then she pulled her thumb out and examined it—presumably to make certain all the syrup was gone—then met Poe’s gaze as if gauging him, as well.

 

That particular gaze? Was all her mother’s.

 

Poe sighed and sat down across from his four years-old daughter, folding his arms on the kitchen’s center island and leaning his chin on them, so he and Maddy were roughly eye-to-eye. “Go on, Jelly-bean. I promise, I’ll listen as best I can, without getting mad or upset.”

 

Maddy swallowed her mouthful of sticky waffle-goo and sighed, too.

 

“Okay,” she said solemnly, reaching out to put a hand on Poe’s lemon-fresh forearm, as if to steady him . . . sometimes, Poe was certain she was fifty-four, not four. “Yesterday, at school, Joey Logan said that his dad was talking to Sam Petrucci’s father, and Mr. Petrucci said that you and Mama were . . . a couple of selfish fruit-loop liberals playing house till you got bored. And that because of that I was starting life out at a defecate.”

 

Poe blinked. Then opened his mouth to speak . . . closing it a moment later until he had a chance to think over his reply to that. He’d had more than one run-in, himself, with Phil Petrucci’s unfortunate mouth. But usually the bigoted asshole kept his opinions between himself and the other members of the PTA. He’d never, to the best of Poe’s knowledge, spouted his bigoted views in front of any child but his own.

 

(And _that_ he most _certainly_ did, as Poe had heard a lot of “Sam-said” since Maddy started first grade.)

 

“Well, first of all, Jelly-bean, I think the word your classmate’s father might’ve used was _deficit_ , not _defecate_. _Defecate_ means to poop. _Deficit_ means a lack, disadvantage, or having a rough or slow start,” Poe said in his most even tone, though he was inwardly seething that Phil Petrucci was forcing his hand once more.

 

Oh, he and Jess’d had A Talk with Maddy about why they weren’t married, and why they’d decided to have a child with each other. They’d kept that Talk short and sweet, glossing over the things Maddy—despite being very advanced for her age—wouldn’t understand. Such as biological clocks ticking and the odds of either parent meeting Mr./Ms. Right with whom to adopt a child before they reached fifty. And they’d certainly _not_ mentioned that, in their early twenties, while still in the Airforce, they’d made a pact to have a child with each other, if no other options looked viable by _thirty_.

 

That particular, carefully-worded Talk had happened not seven months ago, after first grade had gotten into full-swing. It had been necessitated by Sam Petrucci asking Maddy why her mother had a mini rainbow flag flying from her Subaru as well as the American flag.

 

Maddy had innocently gone on to explain gay pride and gay pride symbols to a no doubt horrified Sam Petrucci.

 

And the interpersonal relationship between the children had only gotten better, from there . . . to say nothing of the interpersonal relationship between their parents.

 

Sighing again, Poe tried on a smile. “As for the rest of what Mr. Petrucci said, your mom and I _are_ liberals when it comes to politics, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It just means that we have different—very different—political views than Mr. Petrucci probably has. And if wanting a kid like you so badly, we could hardly wait to have you, makes us selfish, then I guess he’s right about that. As for the fruit-loop remark . . . that’s just another derogatory—you remember what that word means, right? Okay—just another derogatory term for people like your mom and I. People who are lesbian and gay, or otherwise part of the LGBTQIA community.”

 

“Ohhh.” Maddy made a face. Poe and Jessika had been having versions of _this_ Talk with their daughter since she was old enough to take part in them. And one thing Maddy did _not_ like was people insulting her parents and the aunts and uncles she had in the queer community. “Mr. Petrucci is a jerk-faced baboon!”

 

Poe burst out laughing and reached across the counter to tousle Maddy’s already mussy, wavy, shoulder-length hair. “Well . . . I don’t think you should tell _Mr. Petrucci_ that, Jelly-bean, but I happen to agree with you. Even though you’re insulting baboons by saying Mr. Petrucci is one.”

 

Maddy’s solemn, angry face—once again, it was all Jess’s, from the scowl, to the fire in her dark brown eyes—slowly melted into an almost unwilling grin. And a laugh.

 

“People like Mr. Petrucci aren’t necessarily being mean on purpose, though. They probably just don’t realize how hurtful and divisive the things that they say are,” Poe said, though he was fairly certain Phil Petrucci’s jibes were meant to sting. Not necessarily to sting _Maddy_ , but definitely her parents. Maddy, herself, was just collateral damage.

 

 _If this were the good ol’ days, I’d have invited that bigoted fuck-stick to express his opinions directly to_ me _. . . before punching his teeth down his throat._ But, as Poe stood up, tousling a still-giggling Maddy’s hair once more, he had to admit to himself that knocking out Phil Petrucci’s teeth would solve nothing. And that he’d left his _old_ ways back in the old _days_. One of many things he’d given up in preparation for being a father. He’d said good-bye to the _Big_ Bads: bar-room brawls, bringing home strange guys, and even—though it’d been scarily tough—drinking to excess and cigarettes.

 

And Jess had said good-bye to the pretty much the same things, though for her, the Big Bads had been workaholism and bringing home strange _women_.

 

It’d felt like a lot to give up for both of them, at the time, but from the moment Jess had come out of the ObGyn’s office, grinning, Poe hadn’t so much as looked back at his old life. And Jess, who’d turned out to be an amazing and loving mother, hadn’t looked back either. They’d both admitted as much to each other several times, over the years.

 

Maddy had been worth giving up _all_ the bad shit—had been worth _recognizing_ that their prior lives had been _rife_ with bad shit—and becoming, first and foremost, _Mama_ and _Papa_.

 

As Poe picked up where he left off with the dishes, he smiled a bit wistfully, staring out the little window above the sink. Their neighbor across the way, the grouchy and elderly Frank Pyle, was haranguing the poor kid who delivered the paper in their neighborhood.

 

 _I_ do _miss getting laid on the regular, though_ , Poe thought, watching Frank gesture widely at his front door. The newspaper boy merely shook his head and shrugged sullenly. _Even if it’s just a one night-stand. I haven’t gotten any since . . . God, I can’t even remember when. Two years ago? At least. Even Jess gets laid more than I do since she started dating that Phasma-chick. And that’s been going on long enough that pretty soon, Jess’ll be bringing her home to meet Maddy and me._

 

That point . . . the bring-them-home point, had been the death-knell of any almost-relationships Poe’d had since becoming a father. Dating a guy with a baby had been tough for most of the potential boyfriends to wrap their minds around. Living with the baby’s mother—even though it was in the _spacious_ brownstone Poe’d grown up in, and which his father had given to him before moving into a sleek, new condo across town—and co-parenting in such a tightly-knit fashion had been a turn-off.

 

 _That’s because you date_ boys _, not real men_ , Poe’s brain told him. Though it sounded remarkably like Jess. _You date these barely-legal, muscle-bound idiots that are still sewing their wild oats . . . which_ you _most definitely_ aren’t _. You’re a thirty-four years-old family man, Poe. Yet you still date like you’re_ twenty _-four and flying a mission the next day! But you’re not! You have a family, now, not a mission. The guys you go after wouldn’t know what to do with a family if you handed them a manual for it!_

Poe’s brain!Jess had a point.

 

But it was no use dwelling on it. Poe had too much to do, today. Getting Maddy ready for school. Then taking Maddy to school. Then grocery shopping before his noon appointment—Jess’d mentioned more than once the prospect of Poe going into business, starting a proper flight school, but Poe barely had time to squeeze the odd flight _lesson_ into his busy house-husband days, with their many house-husbandly errands—then picking up Maddy and taking her to little league (very little) soccer practice. Then home, homework, dinner, clean-up, then bedtime story. Jess might or might not be home for these things; her days mostly consumed with engineering school and her internship.

 

Her workaholic streak was rearing its ugly head, lately. Poe wondered if she even realized that most people couldn’t function for long periods of time on three hours of sleep per night, while holding down what amounted to a full-time job and full-time school, as she had.

 

 _That’s a Talk that’s been in the waiting in the wings for a while. And I suppose we’ll have to have it soon. First thing’s first, though_ , Poe told himself with a sigh, _finishing up these damned dishes_!

 

#

 

“Knock-knock.”

 

“Enter if you dare!”

 

Smiling, Poe let himself into Jess’s bedroom. His best friend was in her so-called “jim-jams” of boxer shorts and an oversized Mickey Mouse t-shirt, sitting on her bed and typing furiously on her laptop. She didn’t say anything until she noticed that Poe wasn’t talking.

 

In that impossible, amazing way she had, she divided her attention equally between her typing and her best friend. “Whatsamatta? Cat got your tongue?”

 

“We don’t _have_ a cat. Except when Maddy’s pretending she’s one.”

 

Jess laughed and finally looked up from whatever she was working on. She had dark circles around her eyes, and her eyes themselves, though bright, had a sheen of weariness about them. It’d been another twenty-hour day for her, and now, at quarter to midnight, she was still going.

 

If nothing else, Poe admired her work-ethic. But at the same time, he was glad he didn’t have it.

 

He closed the door behind him, then he crossed the room to her bed, sitting on the edge next to her. He barely glanced at the laptop screen—usually, when he did, his eyes had a tendency to glaze over from the specs and designs she always seemed to be looking at—before his attention was snagged by the unusually bright colors on the screen. Not to mention the hearts, smiley-faces, and flowers.

 

“What in blue blazes—?” he asked, laughing. Jess followed his gaze and blushed, starting to close the laptop. But Poe stopped her, scanning the screen more closely.

 

 _MASTER-DATES_! was scrawled across the screen and surrounded with hearts.

 

Poe glanced at Jess incredulously. “Seriously, Pava?”

 

Sighing, Jess shrugged. “Well—how _else_ am I gonna find a date, Dameron? It’s not like I see anyone anymore, besides classmates, workmates, and family.”

 

“But what happened to that Phasma-chick you were seeing?” Poe asked, and Jess shrugged again.

 

“She got deployed last month and didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.” Jess’s tone was casual, but there was a tiny amount of hurt in it, too.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jess?” Poe asked and she looked down at her fine-fingered, blunt-nailed hands.

 

“You mean why wasn’t I clamoring to cry on your shoulder, yet again, because I screwed up another relationship that probably would’ve imploded anyway, sooner or later?” Snorting, Jess leaned against Poe when he put his arm around her. “I just didn’t wanna have to admit that I picked the wrong person _again_. That even though I’d have waited for her, she didn’t want me to.”

 

“Oh, Jess,” Poe murmured, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smelled like strawberries, just like Maddy’s did. Of course it would, because Maddy used the junior version of the same shampoo. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Nothing for _you_ to be sorry about. It’s _my_ fuck-up.” Jess laughed a little. “It usually is.”

 

“No, it’s not. It’s _them_. You’re just falling for the wrong women.”

 

“Which makes it _my_ fault. After all, the one thing these women have in common is _me_.”

 

“Then you’ve gotta be even _more_ particular. Just like you keep telling me.”

 

“I thought I _was_ being _super_ particular.” Jess gave a water-logged giggle. “I thought Phasma and I really had something. Apparently I was wrong. But whatever. I’ve actually met someone new, someone I really like.” She sat up, smiling a little, though her eyes were a tad red. “Someone who’s quirky and really cool.”

 

Poe glanced back at the laptop screen. “And did you find this quirky, cool gal on _Master-Dates_?”

 

“Yep.” Jess grinned and Poe rolled his eyes.

 

“Pava—a year ago, the scary color-scheme alone would’ve warned you away from this site. Never mind the doubtlessly questionable people on it,” Poe reasoned. Jess’s eyebrows inched up to her hairline.

 

“A year ago, I wasn’t this desperate, Cap’n,” was the blunt reply.

 

“You’re beautiful, accomplished, sweet, and loads of fun. You shouldn’t consider yourself desperate, or lower your standards to some cheesy, hideous dating site!”

 

“But that’s just it, Poe, this site is actually highly-rated. Yes, the color scheme is shit, but you can’t always judge a book by its cover. This site is like WeHarmony, only not pious and creepy.”

 

Poe groaned. “Jeez, Jess . . . at least tell me you’re not being charged for the privilege of using this _highly-rated_ site?”

 

“Well. . . .”

 

“JESS!”

 

“What? Oh, c’mon, Poe, we’re not all as magnetic and gorgeous as _you_. Some of us actually need help with meeting people.” Jess waved her hand at the screen. Poe blushed and was about to—lamely—deny what she said, but the fact was, he’d _never_ had trouble grabbing attention from anyone. _Keeping it_ was another story, but Poe was definitely a people person. Effortlessly so. Or had been, once upon a time.

 

Sighing, Poe squeezed Jess close. “You know I only want you to be happy, right?”

 

“I know, Poe. I know. I want the same for you.”

 

“And you think you’re gonna find happiness on a site that’s name is literally a shitty play on the word _masturbate_?”

 

Grinning, Jess leaned forward a little, so she could scroll up. “I think I might’ve already. Look,” she said, pointing at a small, garish chat-window that was open and filled with text. At the top of the chat-window, was a small picture of a young woman with a serious countenance . . . though her mouth was slightly curved with a hint of a smile. “I’ve been chatting with her for two weeks. Her name is Rey.”

 

“As in: ‘ _Hi, I’m a dude named Ray, and I’m an ax-murderer_ ’?”

 

“ _No_. As in, we’ve talked on the phone a couple times and she’s definitely a woman. An Englishwoman. And it’s R-E-Y, not R-A-Y.” Jess chuckled, then punched Poe’s arm hard. “Dingus.”

 

“Ow! Damnit, Pava! It’s not just words that hurt, you know!” Poe rubbed his arm, and glared at Jess, who was already typing something in reply to “Rey’s” latest comment.

 

Though Poe was tempted to read their conversation—as much of it as was visible, anyway—he didn’t. Instead, he made note of the web address for later checking out. _Master-Dates,_ indeed.

 

“Huh. Rey’s right, you know?”

 

Startled, Poe blinked. “About what?”

 

Jess rolled her eyes, this time. “Haven’t you been following the convo?”

 

“No. It seems like an A and B conversation. I’m just C-ing my way out of it.” Poe held up his hands in a peace-making gesture.

 

“Believe me, if I didn’t want you to see what I was typing, you wouldn’t.” Jess snorted again. “I told her you were here, and she said _hi_ , see? And I told her you were worried about me being on this site, and she laughed, and said: _He should check out_ Master-Dates _and see that despite the awful name and hideous color-scheme, it’s a really great site to meet interesting people. I can personally attest to that.”_

 

Poe glanced at the chat-window and saw that Rey _had_ said just that. And she was typing something else, as well:

 

**He might even meet someone special if he joined ;-)**

 

“Yeah, right,” Poe muttered. Then squawked as Jess typed that into the chat-window. “Don’t tell her I said that!”

 

“Why not? Do you really care what she thinks of you? A total stranger?” Jess’s dark eyes were sparkling with mischief. Poe crossed his arms.

 

“No, but—don’t tell her what I’m saying!”

 

“Fine.” Jess typed something else—something about her baby-daddy being shy.

 

“Wait—she knows you have a kid?”

 

“Yeah. I just told her this week, when we talked on the phone for the first time.” Jess’s smile turned a bit guilty. “I didn’t actually mention it on the site that I have a kid. I just elected not to answer that field, so it doesn’t show up on my profile.”

 

Poe nodded ruefully. “Yeah, people can be really weird about dating someone who has a child,” he said, thinking about his awful track record over the past five years. “Weird and shallow.”

 

“That’s not why I didn’t want to mention having a child, Poe. Though, now that you mention it . . . yeah. They can be shallow.” Jess’s smile faded. “I half-think that’s why Phasma . . . well, anyway, the reason I didn’t mention having a child was because I don’t like giving out that kinda info on a dating website. No matter how safe or highly-rated.”

 

“Huh. Smart thinking,” Poe acknowledged. Jess’s grin slowly came back.

 

“Anyway, I told Rey that I have a daughter, and she seems to be okay with that. She said she’s never dated a woman with a child, but then, she hasn’t dated many women at all.”

 

Poe frowned. “Why not? What’s wrong with her?” Off Jess’s glare, Poe laughed. “I mean why hasn’t she been dating much? Fresh out of the closet?”

 

“Well . . . yeah. That and, well, she’s only twenty-two,” Jess mumbled, blushing. So bright, she could’ve guided Santa’s sleigh on the foggiest of Christmas Eves. And well she should’ve, because Poe was gaping at her accusingly as he stood up.

 

“After all that talk and those admonitions about dating guys who’re eight and ten years younger than me, you have the _stones_ to chat-up some chickie who’s _twelve_ _years_ younger than _you_?!”

 

Jess stammered and hemmed and hawed. “Well—that is—look, I . . . _she_ messaged me _first_! And she was very charming and sweet and shy!” she claimed.

 

“Famous last words! Usually followed by: _And then she took out her ax_.” Poe sighed. “At any rate, Casanova, it’s late and we’re both tired—you, especially—so I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up _too_ late cybering or whatever you two lovebirds do.”

 

Jess blushed even deeper. “We don’t—listen, it’s not like that!”

 

Poe stretched. “Then what _is_ it like? Wow me with your tales of lesbianry.”

 

Glaring again, Jess ostentatiously looked back at her laptop. “Okay, that’s it. I’m ignoring you, now.”

 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Jess,” Poe said, laughing a little.

 

“Ignoring you, ignoring you, la-di-da-di-dee. . . .”

 

“Seriously, though, I think you deserve nothing but the absolute best. And if this woman you’re connecting with is who you want, then I want her for you . . . in the non-sexual, best friend-way,” he added, just so there were no misunderstandings. He held out his fist to her. “Any time, any place.”

 

Jess—who’d really only stopped being “Pava” to him, for the most part, around the time her baby-bump began to show—grinned up at him, wry and fond. “Aim high . . . fly, fight, win,” she replied, completing the fist-bump.

 

“And who knows, if things work out, maybe Rey-with-an-E can transfer into Maddy’s elementary school!” Poe added blithely. Jess’s eyes narrowed and she pointed to her door.

 

“Out, Dameron. Before I _throw_ you out.”

 

“Seriously—it’s a magnet school, you know. She’d learn a lo—oh, fuck!”

 

Practically guffawing, now, Poe made his exit, just barely dodging a thrown pillow.

 

It wasn’t until he’d gotten to his bedroom that he realized he hadn’t even broached the subject of Jess working fewer hours and spending more time with Maddy.

 

#

 

The next day was an unusually quiet one. Especially for a Friday.

 

After dropping Maddy off at school, Poe and his laptop stopped at his favorite coffeehouse, _The Java Cave_ and, with his mocha latte in hand, chose a seat near the east-facing plate-glass window—which most people avoided because they didn’t like the extra heat from all the sunshine, but which Poe, cold-blooded summer-baby that he was, always sought out—sat down with a relieved sigh. He had nothing but time to kill until Maddy’s school let out.

 

He set up his laptop and cruised around online for a while, looking up anything that came to his mind. While he faffed about on the internet, he let his mind wander. As usual, it didn’t so much _wander_ as it did sidle up to his current problems. Namely his loneliness and sexual frustration.

 

Of course, there were plenty of bars in town where he could pick up a guy, get a hotel room, and take the edge off, but that felt . . . unsavory. And in a way that it never had back when he was Poe “Hot Damn!” Dameron. For while it would take care of some of the more—well, _less_ civilized urges he had, it wouldn’t put a dent in the scary, free-fall feeling of being alone in the universe.

 

No, Poe Dameron was well beyond his past sexcapades. Though once fulfilling, he had a feeling that now . . . they’d just leave him feeling empty. . . .

 

The only thing for it was to get into the dating world. Problem being that Poe had never really _dated_ a guy. Just . . . picked them up, had sex with them, then waited for them to go away. With the exception, of course, of his first and only boyfriend.

 

Even though he’d been just a teenager, it’d been a dysfunctional, broken relationship from day one. The only thing good about it—really, the _only thing_ , though not for Poe’s lack of trying—had been the sex. Ben Solo had been as crazy as a shit-house rat, but he’d also been a spectacular lay. At least for the wide-eyed seventeen-year-old Poe had been. And having a boyfriend who’d been a college senior had been exciting for all sorts of reasons.

 

And then . . . it’d ended. Ben had chosen a master’s program at an Ivy League college—the same his mother and grandfather had gone to—approximately all-the-fucking-way across the country. Ben had saved that bit of information, kept it to himself until Poe had overheard Ben’s mother proudly mention it to a relative at Ben’s graduation party. And when Poe had finally managed to drag Ben to someplace quiet-ish, where they could talk, well . . . they’d talked. But it hadn’t stayed quiet for long.

 

Poe had, for the first and only time in his life, lost his temper enough to scream at someone. But Ben had taken hissed whispers and shouts all in stride, maintaining that their relationship was both toxic and overdue to end. That Poe had a lot of growing up to do.

 

Incredibly stung by that, Poe had replied: “Not as much as _you_ do, _cerdo elitista!_ You belong in a mental institution, not a university _!_ ”

 

And with that, Poe had stormed off, past seemingly every party guest—including Mr. and Mrs. Solo, who were actually really nice—who watched him go with wide eyes. Poe, face burning, had gotten in his beat-up, fix-it-project car, a black Charger and sped off, barely able to see for the tears in his eyes.

 

He’d never seen Ben or any other Solo since, though he’d heard through the grapevine that Ben eventually _had_ wound up in a loony bin after trying to cut off his own arm. A pretty _intensive_ loony bin, and for an extended stay.

 

That hadn’t made Poe, who was twenty-three at the time, and home on a brief furlough, feel any better about that part of his life. Though he’d been glad, in a bitter way, that his relationship had ended when Ben had still been . . . partly sane.

 

 _Wow . . . the only relationship I’ve ever had was with a certifiably crazy guy, when I was seventeen. I’ve somehow managed to avoid having a relationship in the nearly twenty years since. That says more about me than it does about any guy I’ve fucked_. Poe thought with a heavy sigh. _I’ve chosen every guy since Ben for their lack of interest in a real relationship. Even the guys I slept with more than once it was just because we had good sexual chemistry. For a while, anyway. Eventually we both got bored and moved on . . . what the hell kind of life is that for a grown man? Let alone one pushing forty?_

Sighing again, Poe shook his head and tuned back in to the whatever idiot site he’d managed to find himself on—only to see a familiar, stupid name and familiar, hideous colors.

 

_Master-Dates!_

 

 _No way_ , Poe thought, wondering why his autopilot would’ve brought him to this site. Even if he had _no_ other options for finding a date, he’d _never_ settle for this catastrophe of a website . . . would he?

 

But then . . . what if it wasn’t so bad? After all, Jess—who _was_ fairly picky about whom she dated—had found someone she liked a lot. And the fact was, that even if Jess had lowered her standards some, they were still going to be higher than most people’s. And those people included Poe, who, now that he thought about it, didn’t have any real criteria beyond tall, dark, and hung.

 

 _But since when does any of those things mean that the guy’s smart, or nice, or funny? In fact, from what I’ve seen, tall, dark, and hung usually means they’re not exactly packing in the brains and personality department_. Poe snorted _. And why would they be? It’s not like they’d been forced to grow either brains or personality because of awkward or . . . iffy looks._

 

This part of Poe’s mind also sounded like Jess and of course, it was—as usual—right.

 

_Well . . . what could it hurt to give it a try? Worse comes to worst, I can just delete the profile and pretend it never happened. Jess doesn’t even have to know about it. And since she’s not looking at guys, she’ll never find out I cruised around the site. What could possibly go wrong?_

 

“A lot, actually,” Poe muttered to himself, sipping his half-finished, lukewarm mocha. “After all, it _is_ the Internet.”

 

 _True_ , the Jess-voice admitted. _But you were in the military._ _Do you really think there’s a guy on Master-Dates that you can’t handle? Do you really think that you’re in any danger?_

 

“No, no, it’s just—” Poe realized he was talking out loud . . . to his internalized Jessika Pava. He cleared his throat, glanced around to see if anyone had noticed—they hadn’t—and continued arguing with that voice silently. _I can handle myself physically, it’s just . . . what if, by some weird bit of chance, I meet a guy I really like and he turns out to be another Ben Solo? What if I fall for some jerk who just dumps me when he’s sick of fucking me?_

 

The Jess-voice sighed. _That’s a risk that you have to take, isn’t it? Unless you want to spend the rest of your life alone. You have to risk your heart, put it on the line, if you want to find someone else who’ll do the same. And sure, you might totally get hurt. Badly. But if you never try, you’ll definitely never_ find _anyone. Remember, you’re Air Force, Dameron:_ Aim high . . . fly, fight, win!

 

Poe swallowed, feeling somewhat ashamed of his own fearful response. Again, the Jess-voice was absolutely right. If he didn’t dare, he didn’t deserve. And he most certainly wouldn’t _get_.

 

And that was no way for any pilot to live, let alone a military pilot.

 

“Any time, any place,” he murmured, running his finger across the laptop’s touchpad, until the cursor was hovering over the **Register** button.

 

Five minutes later found Poe already ankles-deep in the registration process.

 

#

 

By ten a.m., Poe was all registered, had filled out most of his profile, posted a recent photo— _really_ recent . . . like, just-taken-with-his-laptop’s-camera recent—and had begun answering what seemed like millions of pointlessly pointed questions in the _Match Questionnaire_ about his likes, dislikes, and overall personality.

 

“What?” Poe muttered to himself on the most recent of the questions. “What do they mean by _Stove-Top or Potatoes_? Can’t I have _both_?”

 

Shaking his head in annoyance, Poe was just about to take a break and get a scone, or something, when there was a chiming ping from his computer. “Uh. . . .” his eyes widened as a chat-window popped up at the bottom of his screen. At the top of the window, there was a small photo of a young black guy with strong features and perfect teeth. He looked like a movie star with that _smile_. . . .

 

**Hello :-)**

 

Poe sat there, wide-eyed, for most of a minute, uncertain what to do. According to the little bar next to the picture, he was being messaged by FN-2187, a twenty-two years-old, single black male.

 

 _Boy, this site sure is popular with the teeny-bopper set,_ Poe thought bemusedly. Then he was carefully hunting and pecking out:

 

 _Hi_.

 

**:-) Awesome profile.**

 

_Thank you._

_I’m still filling out the questionnaire they give us. So there’ll be more awesomeness to come, eventually. Once I finish._

 

**Nah. That questionnaire doesn’t end. Seriously. I’ve been filling it out for almost five weeks. I have yet to see the end. Or a repeated question.**

 

 _Damn_.

 

 **Yeah**.

 

**LOL**

 

_Someone put a lot of thought into this questionnaire._

 

**Well. Maybe. Some of the questions are pretty inane. Only a few are actual deal-breaker questions.**

 

_Tell me about it. Right now, I have to decide between Stove Top and potatoes._

 

**LMAO! Not exactly Sophie’s choice, is it?**

 

_No._

 

**But frankly, there should be a field there for “BOTH”!**

 

Poe laughed out loud, hastily covering his mouth as he broke the level hum of the coffeehouse. Then he was grinning as he typed.

 

_Haha, a man after my own heart._

 

**Well . . . I’m sure there’re some other parts of you I wouldn’t mind having, too <3**

 

_A cheesy come-on AND an ass-cone of affection to leaven it? Suave._

 

**LMAO! My come-ons ARE pretty terrible. That’s why I resort to online dating sites. At least I’m not embarrassing myself in person. I’m really quite shy, otherwise.**

 

**:-D**

 

**So . . . Aces715 . . . I sense there’s a story behind that handle. I’d love to hear it, sometime. Maybe over drinks and dinner?**

 

Poe’s eyes widened, and for a minute, he didn’t know what to type.

 

**Uh . . . did I lose you already, Aces?**

 

_Still here. Just thinking that you move pretty fast for a shy guy._

 

**I’m shy, yes, but I’m not shy enough to let opportunity pass me by. By which I mean: you’re gorgeous, funny, and intelligent. I’d love to know more about you than your opinion on tasty carbs.**

 

Poe blushed and glanced around. He felt exposed, for some reason, though no one was looking at him. He returned his gaze to the screen. FN-2187 had typed something else:

 

**Hope I haven’t scared you off by being too forward. I’m really not like this. Usually I’m kind of intimidated by guys as attractive and interesting as you are. But something about your smile, profile, and chatting with you puts me at ease. You feel like someone I already know. Sort of.**

 

Poe didn’t know what to say to that. He, himself, felt oddly comfortable talking to FN-2187, but he didn’t necessarily want to admit that. There was being brave and there was asking for trouble, after all. Online dating seemed to straddle a fine line between those two things. One Poe would have to walk with care.

 

**Still there, Aces?**

 

_Yes. You just seem to have a way of startling the conversational gambits right out of me._

 

**DAMN.**

 

 _What_?

 

**Not only don’t you use Internet slang when you type, but you just correctly used the term “conversational gambits” . . . also without misspelling it. Will you marry me? Or at least check out my profile so you’ll know that I, too, am surprisingly literate for someone raised in the Internet Age.**

 

_Haha._

_I DID notice that you’re only twenty-two._

 

**Only? ONLY? I’ll have you know that’s as old as my tongue and older than my teeth :-)**

 

_What does that even mean?_

 

**That’s for me to know and you to find out.**

 

_You’re incorrigible._

 

**Another S.A.T. word! I love it!**

 

 _Haha_.

 

**AND I got another laugh out of you? I’m on a roll!**

 

_You’re ridiculous._

 

**I’m really racking up the adjectives in this conversation, LOL.**

 

_I can think of a few more adjectives to describe you, if you like. . . ._

 

**No-no! You’ve already bruised my ego enough for one day, Aces.**

 

Poe’s fingers hung over the letter P as he deliberated over his next statement. Finally, he typed:

 

_Poe._

 

**Edgar Allen? The Tell-Tale Heart?**

 

_No. Well, yes. But it’s also my first name._

 

**That’s so cool! Are you also a fan of Edgar Allen Poe?**

 

_My mother was a HUGE fan—hence the name—but I haven’t read him since I was in high school. Quoth the Raven, and all that._

 

**You’re missing out. “The Raven” was only the tip of the creative iceberg for him.**

 

_Who’re you? My English tutor?_

 

**If you want me to be. There’s a lot I could teach you, I’ll bet. . . .**

 

_Ugh! Another corny line! Terrible!_

 

**LOL, fine, I’ll bet there’s a lot I could LEARN from you, then.**

 

_Assuming I’m interested in teaching you anything, young’un._

 

**Oh, don’t discount the teachability of me . . . there’re hundreds of guys on this site who apparently want to . . . teach me everything they know. The messages I get are kinda gross, sometimes.**

 

_I can imagine._

 

**I’m sure you can. You’re gorgeous and amazingly hot.**

 

_Well. You’re not exactly chopped liver, yourself._

 

**Aw, thanks, Poe!**

 

_Hey, aren’t you going tell me your name?_

 

**LOL, guess!**

 

_Alright. I’m thinking F and N are your initials._

 

**Yep. First and middle.**

 

_Hmm, so, Fig Newton?_

 

**Ugh, no.**

 

_Haha. Just kidding. Francis Nelson?_

 

**Strike two!**

 

_Well, baseball isn’t my game._

 

**I know—you like soccer. It says so in your profile . . . deviant.**

 

_Conformist . . . okay, how about Filbert—um. . . ._

 

**No. Just . . . no. To Filbert, and to whatever you were going to guess was my middle name.**

 

_Filbert Nathan!_

 

**This is just getting painful, now. I’m embarrassed for us both.**

 

_Felix Norman?_

 

**With each guess you grow ever more wrong. It’s become objectively fascinating to witness your tries. . . .**

 

_Fine, then, I’m just going to come up with my own name for you, because I’m not going to keep calling you FN-2187. From now on, you are . . . Finn._

 

After another drawn out silence, this time Poe was the one to type:

 

_Have I lost you? Chased you off with my terrible guesses?_

 

**No, it’s just . . . weird.**

 

_What?_

 

**That you just pulled my actual name out of the air when you gave up guessing.**

 

Poe sat back in his chair and regarded the screen for a few moments before typing.

 

_Really? Your name’s “Finn”?_

 

**Yeah.**

 

_Cool! Great name! Shall I keep guessing what the “N” stands for, too?_

 

**Nah, it’s not important. I like just “Finn” just fine.**

 

_So do I, actually._

 

**:-)**

 

_:)_

 

**You left out the nose. You know, the hyphen, “–”**

 

_I’m rolling my eyes right now. I want you to know that._

 

**LOL**

**You’re a funny man, Poe.**

 

_A real laugh riot . . . that’s me, Finn._

 

**Ooh, baby . . . I love it when you type my name all sexy. . . . ;-D**

**So. . . .**

 

 _So_. . . .

 

**What’re you wearing?**

 

Poe burst out laughing again, and this time everyone in the coffeehouse looked his way. But he barely noticed, caught up as he was in typing back a rather tart reply.

 

And so the morning and early afternoon went.

 

TBC


	2. The Courtship of Maddy's Father 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for per Sleepingwiththesoldier’s prompt: (http://sleepingwiththesoldier.tumblr.com/post/139366735945/otpandkids-person-a-is-looking-on-dating-sites) Person A is looking on dating sites for a girlfriend/boyfriend, when they meet Person B, and they hit it off fast. They build a great relationship over time, until A suggests meeting up in person. Unable to keep it a secret any longer, B confesses to A after meeting up that they have a child(ren). It’s up to the author if things go downhill from there or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: Probably vague spoilers for Episode VII.

**Hey, there, gorgeous.**

**Um . . . you ARE there, right?**

 

 _Haha, yes. Just getting used to the_ Master-Dates _chat-app on my phone._

 

**Ah . . . I don’t have the chat-app on my phone. Bad, Finn! Bad!**

 

**But I guess I didn’t have a reason to, before now :-)**

 

_:)_

 

Poe blushed and smiled, leaning against the top-loading washer, which hummed with its load of laundry. Then he levered himself up and went to sit on the bottom step of the stairs leading back up to the kitchen.

 

It was Saturday morning and, as promised to himself, he was doing his laundry and Maddy’s.

 

_How are you today, Finn?_

 

**Great, now that I’m talking to you.**

 

**;-)**

 

_Charmer. And how were you doing BEFORE speaking to me?_

 

**Well, I was about to crash face-first into my pillows for an EPIC sleep, actually.**

 

 **LOL**.

 

**Just got in from a get-together with a bunch of rowdy Marines that didn’t let up till four in the morning. Then we decided to stop at a twenty-four-hour diner. We stayed till almost eight a.m., bullshitting, drinking shitty coffee, and eating passable pie.**

 

_Wow, haha, I remember those days. Partying all night and then stopping at a diner for breakfast before sleeping all day._

 

_Good times. . . ._

 

**LOL, don’t say it like you’re remembering a past life! You’re not that much older than me.**

 

_I’m plenty older than you, sonny-boy._

 

**Thirty-four isn’t old! That’s . . . an awesome age! Not jaded, yet not inexperienced. And guys in their thirties usually have some idea of what they want, unlike guys my age.**

 

_So, are you saying YOU don’t know what you want?_

 

**Oh, I know EXACTLY what I want.**

 

**;-D**

 

Blushing again, Poe grinned at his phone.

 

_Dare I ask?_

 

**I dunno . . . DARE YOU?**

 

_Well, I’ve never been timid. . . ._

 

_What DO you want?_

 

**For starters, I want you to talk with me until my eyes get droopy and I start misspelling my words. Until you realize that I’ve fallen asleep.**

 

_You want to fall asleep while I’m chatting with you? How flattering._

 

**Well, it’s the next best thing to being lulled to sleep by your melodic voice.**

 

_Sweet-talker. You sure know how to salvage a compliment-misfire like nobody’s business._

 

**Grrr, baby . . . does that make you horny?**

 

_About as much as any other dated pop-culture references, Austin._

 

**ROTFLMAO**

 

**I can’t help it! I’m still a little tipsy and when I get tipsy, the impersonations come out to play. . . .**

 

**Some play better than others, heh.**

 

_That’s usually the case._

 

_So, you hang around with Marines in your spare time, eh?_

 

**Yep. Mainly because I AM a Marine, lol. Not active duty, but I still keep in contact with friends and members of my fireteam. Which is my only excuse for hanging around with a bunch of rowdy jarheads.**

 

_YOU’RE a Marine?_

 

**Yep, 5 th Marine Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Division.**

 

**Semper fi.**

_Wow!_

 

**You sound—well, type—surprised.**

 

_Well, yeah. You’re so . . . upbeat. Most of the Marines I meet are anything but._

 

**Meet a lot of Marines, do ya?**

 

_Not THAT many. But I dated a Marine once, very briefly. He wasn’t on active duty either, but lived a closeted lifestyle that I couldn’t have dealt with if I’d been interested in extending our acquaintance._

 

_But that was over ten years ago. I was still in the service myself._

 

**Really? Huh. Lemme guess: Air Force?**

 

_Wow—good guess! Are you psychic?_

 

**LOL, your handle is “Aces” . . . you’re either a card-sharp or a pilot. And since the U.S. military branches don’t have a Texas Hold ‘Em Division. . . .**

 

_Okay, okay, I get it. My handle isn’t very stealthy._

 

**At least not to me.**

 

 **LMAO**!

 

**Anyway, you’re a pilot, not a professional poker player—and I’ve gotta say, I’m really glad you’re NOT a poker player, after all. I think pilots are EXTREMELY sexy.**

 

**:-)**

 

Still grinning and blushing, Poe leaned back against the steps.

 

_Oh, I’m REAL sexy, right now. Wearing my last pair of clean trou and an ugly Xmas sweater my best friend got me as a gag gift last year, and waiting in the basement for a load of laundry to finish. I’m the epitome of sexy._

 

**Finally! You’re telling me what you’re wearing! Commence Finn’s Ultimate Fantasy: Take Two!**

 

_Haha, but you don’t even know what I look like, besides my face. I could be a scrawny, ninety-eight pounds soaking-wet weakling._

 

**You could be.**

 

**But I’ll bet you’re not.**

 

**I know we’re the same height and you listed yourself as “physically fit” in your profile.**

 

_And you listed yourself as “fucking ripped” in yours._

 

**That’s cuz I am :-)**

 

**After I got wounded in Afghanistan, I had nothing to do while recuperating but buckle-down, and do my PT and work out. Then I was discharged and sent home. But I kept up my exercise routine. I’m actually in the best shape of my life, now.**

 

_Best shape of your—jeez, you’re only twenty-two!_

 

**Yes, but it’s been a long, tough twenty-two years. At least the first half of it.**

 

**Argh—I came over all serious for a second. Sorry.**

 

_Don’t be. You don’t have to be a clown to hold my attention._

 

**I prefer to think of myself as an amateur comedian.**

 

**LOL**

 

_Comedian, huh? Is that what you do for a living?_

 

**Right now, I’m actually in school, working toward my first degree in Art History.**

 

_Nice! My best friend is going for her master’s. She’s majoring in Engineering._

 

**Yikes! One of those math-heavy majors!**

 

_Ah, you don’t like math . . . you poor, benighted soul._

 

**LMAO**

 

**I despise math, though I’m not terrible at it. I just don’t see the point of calc and trig. I’ve never used either in my daily life. Not even in when I was on active duty.**

 

**I prefer Art and History to Math, and one day, not too far in the future, I’m going to teach Art History to ingrate college students.**

 

**What about you, Poe?**

 

_Haha. I’m a teacher, too, of sorts. I give flight lessons to people in the area. My best friend thinks I should start a business from that._

 

**Not to get all philosophical on you, but . . . are you happy with things the way they are now? Without opening Poe’s Flying High School for Pilots?**

 

_Haha, pretty happy._

 

**Then follow your bliss :-)**

 

_That’s a kind of hippy-dippy philosophy, for a Jarhead :)_

 

**Well, my Dad was a pretty hippy-dippy guy. He still is, LOL. He’s a professor of History at the university and his students all love him.**

 

_And now, after a stint in the military, you’re following sort of in his footsteps :-)_

 

**I guess I am, LOL. Someone has to, since my sister isn’t. She’s following in Pop’s footsteps—POST-NAVY footsteps—double majoring in PoliSci and Journalism.**

 

_DAMN. Now THAT’s a double major!_

 

**Yeah. My sister’s no joke.**

 

_But wait—how can your sister be taking after your father? Didn’t you say he was a history professor?_

 

**I actually have two dads, just like that old TV show. Only MY two dads aren’t pretending to be straight for the Nielsen ratings, LOL.**

 

_Oh._

_Haha._

 

**I feel kind of sorry for my sis, sometimes, growing up around all that testosterone. But she seems to have come through it okay. She’s such an overachiever, though, LOL.**

 

_Just like my best friend. She’s always striving for some new height of awesomeness. She always has to be the best. She just doesn’t get that yes, the race is long, but in the end, it’s only with one’s self, you know?_

 

**Oh, I know. And it’s incredibly sexy that YOU know it, too.**

 

_HAHA! Not everything I do has to be sexy, Finn!_

 

**Yet everything you do IS sexy, Poe. Go figure.**

**;-D**

 

_Sheesh, are you feeling sleepy, yet?_

 

**ROTFLMAO!**

 

**I’m actually wide awake.**

 

**Got my second wind, talking with you, beautiful :-***

 

_Incorrigible. Absolutely incorrigible._

 

**And hung like an army mule—oops, did I type that out loud?**

 

Poe rolled his eyes.

 

_I’m not a size-queen, so that doesn’t impress me._

 

(Which was a total lie. Poe had known himself for a pretty shameless size-queen since he was seventeen. Ben’d had length _and_ girth, and he hadn’t been shy about using either to reduce Poe to a quivering mess.)

 

**Aw, c’mon, say you’re at least a LITTLE impressed? I mean, in Basic, I got the nickname “Tripod” and it stuck.**

 

_Do all Marines like to bore people to tears by touting the size of their dicks?_

 

**I dunno about ALL Marines, but I do :-D**

 

_HAHA!_

 

_Ever hear: It’s not the size of the prize, but the flick in the stick?_

 

**Yes, but only from guys with really tiny sticks.**

 

_So you’re implying that my stick is tiny? Why, sir, your sweet words of flattery do cause me to blush. . . ._

 

**Well, there’s always that one exception that proves the rule. I’ll bet your dick is just the right size. Of course, the proof is in the putting. . . .**

 

_Ugh, please don’t do your Austin Powers impersonation again._

 

**LMAO!**

 

**I promise, no more Austin Powers . . . what about _The Mask,_ instead?**

 

**You’re smmmmmoookin’!**

 

Poe burst out laughing, despite himself, and accidentally dropped his phone.

 

#

 

_Hey . . . you awake?_

 

Leaving his laptop open, Poe went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea—the sleepy-kind, with the stoned-looking bears on the box—then carefully went back up to his bedroom. He sat on his bed and placed the steaming mug on his night table.

 

As he got comfortable, he saw several responses to his query:

 

**For you, gorgeous? Anything. Even consciousness.**

 

**Hello?**

 

**You still there?**

 

**Have you abandoned me? Left me to my own devices?**

 

**Oh, alas, alack! I’m alone! Alooooooooone. . . . .**

 

Laughing, Poe quickly typed out a reply.

 

_You’re such a dork._

 

**You’re back! And you’ve brought insults!**

 

**Whee!!!!**

 

_Haha. My aim is to keep you humble._

 

**I’m already humble! The humblest person in the world!**

 

**LOL**

 

**So, what’s up, Poe? How was your day?**

 

_How was my day? STRESSFUL. Like, straight-up annoying. The hot water heater finally went blooey beyond even my ability to fix. Had to get a new one, then had a bitch of a time installing it. It literally took all day. Then my best friend, who lives with me, brought home a Cardigan Welsh Corgi puppy tonight. It spent the whole evening running around, knocking stuff over and chewing on the legs of the furniture. And we spent the whole evening saying: “Aw, isn’t she adorable?” every time she damaged our property. And we still haven’t named her. I was thinking of something that describes her personality . . . like Crash or Furniture-Slayer._

 

Poe hit send, then added:

 

_Plus, I failed at making beef stroganoff AGAIN, tonight, and it’s REALLY starting to piss me off._

 

**DAMN.**

 

Blushing, Poe reread what he’d sent. He quickly realized he’d just unloaded his entire day on Finn.

 

_Uh. Sorry for the A &E Biography I just sent. It’s been a . . . long, over-full day._

 

**So I read. Poor Poe. Well, at least tomorrow’s likely to be better.**

 

_It’d better be._

 

**It will, if it knows what’s good for it. And if it doesn’t, it’ll have me to answer to.**

 

Smiling for the first time all day, Poe tucked his legs in tailor-fashion.

 

_Aw, if you’re not careful, you’re going to wind up being my hero._

 

**Are you KIDDING? I’d LOVE to be your hero, if you’d let me :-)**

 

_You’re such a Marine._

 

_Haha. Tell me about YOUR day, Mr. Hero._

 

**LOL**

 

**Okay, but there were no Welsh Corgis involved, so it wasn’t nearly as exciting as yours. . . .**

 

#

 

A chiming ping sounded near Poe’s face and he opened his tired eyes.

 

His face was kind of stuck to his arm by dried drool and he was curled up in bed around his laptop. He’d apparently fallen asleep with his YouTube playlist going on repeat, while chatting with Finn last night.

 

Again.

 

The ping had been Finn wishing him a far too cheery good morning.

 

_it cant be morning i just closed my eyes_

 

**C’mon, up an’ at ‘em, Air Force!**

 

Poe groaned and closed his eyes again. Then, a minute later, he groaned again and sat up. Overcast sunlight lit his room and he squinted at BB-8, sleeping on the foot of his bed. Maddy had been the one to finally name her, after almost two weeks of all three of them deliberating over name after name.

 

Poe had no idea where Maddy’d come up with the name “BB-8,” but it actually . . . suited the puppy, somehow. This strange, rambunctious, friendly puppy who, no matter where she’d initially fallen asleep—usually Maddy’s room—always ended up on Poe’s bed, come morning.

 

Shaking his head at the complexity of puppies, Poe pulled the laptop into his lap. He read Finn’s good morning again and snorted.

 

_You’re ridiculous, you know that?_

 

It took Poe nearly a minute to type that between dozing off and backspacing over typos made because he’d dozed off while typing.

 

He really wasn’t at his best in the morning.

 

Especially Mondays.

 

**And incorrigible . . . don’t forget incorrigible :-D**

 

_Why’re you so CHEERFUL?!_

 

**LMAO! Because this is, like, the fourth time we’ve slept together.**

 

Poe froze for a moment, suddenly wide awake . . . then he huffed as he realized that Finn’d meant they’d literally fallen asleep together. And it was, in fact, the fourth time.

 

_You’re not funny, Finn. Nothing is, before I’ve had my coffee._

 

**Meh, coffee is SO last millennium. You should try Zap! energy drinks. Holy shit, talk about wide awake!**

 

_Is that what’s fueling your peppy outlook?_

 

**Not today. I just got great sleep last night. I do whenever we fall asleep together :-)**

 

Poe blushed, then realized he was smiling, as well.

 

_It’s five thirty-seven in the morning. I don’t care how good the sleep, no one should be chipper waking up that early—and don’t say it’s because you woke up with me!_

 

**LOL**

 

**You know me so well.**

 

Poe snorted again.

 

_Let me get on my phone so I can go make coffee._

 

**Okie doke. I’ll be right here :-)**

 

Poe swung his legs out of bed and took the phone off the charger on his night table. Then he stood up, stretched, then opened the _Master-Dates_ app.

 

He shuffled to the stairs—after briefly checking in on Maddy, who was still asleep and would be for the next hour, or so—and went to the kitchen. But even as he put the coffee on and chatted with Finn, Poe’s thoughts lingered on something that had been bugging him lately.

 

He had yet to mention to Finn that he had a daughter—and he hadn’t added that to his profile in the **Family** section, either.

 

And at first, that’d seemed okay, since he and Finn were just chatting, but over the past few days, their chatting seemed like . . . something more. It wasn’t just aimless flirting and joking with each other. It seemed like it was . . . leading up to something. Something with potential.

 

Poe kept meaning to at least sound Finn out on how he felt about kids . . . and perhaps dating a guy with a kid. But somehow, Poe never got around to it. The timing never seemed right and Poe couldn’t think of a way to ask without probably giving away the game.

 

 _Maybe I should just flat-out say it,_ Poe mused. _Maybe I should just tell him and let the chips fall where they may. I mean, the fact is, if he doesn’t want to talk to me after finding out I have a daughter, it’s his loss, not mine._

 

All of which was easy to tell himself—or had been, before that Something More had made itself apparent. Where Poe had initially felt as if he didn’t have anything to lose, he now felt as if he might have quite a lot to lose. Maybe he always had, and just hadn’t recognized it.

 

It was ironic that Poe had felt that the most important person in his life had to remain a secret from Finn because Poe didn’t know him from Adam, yet now, it felt as if that same secret had to be _told_ because Poe wanted to know Finn _better_ , and felt as if that couldn’t happen unless they were both being honest.

 

And nothing he’d exchanged with Finn, so far, had lead him to believe Finn was lying even by omission.

 

Finn was being honest and all Poe had done in response was lie about the person he loved most. Lie about her very existence. . . .

 

**Are you okay, Poe? You seem really distracted, this morning. DID I wake you too early? Truth be told, I thought you were already awake because the chat-window said you were online. I didn’t realize that was from last night.**

 

Smiling at Finn’s concern, Poe shut off the now-silent coffee maker and replied.

 

_No, I’m fine. Still just trying to focus. Coffee’s done, so that should help me along._

 

**If you say so. Coffee’s just so—old school. Delicious, but old school.**

 

Grinning—Finn liked to bait him by calling the way Poe did things “old school”—Poe replied.

 

_Hey, if it ain’t broke. . . ._

 

**Wow, you’re just FULL of old school wisdom, today, Elder Poe! Tell me more!**

 

_Oh, shut up, Junior._

 

**LMAO!**

 

**Now, now, no need to get prickly about it, old man.**

 

_Oh, when I’m prickly, you’ll know it._

 

**Oooh, is that a promise?**

 

**That’s a threat AND a promise.**

 

And the back and forth continued like that for some time, Poe still somewhat distracted by the driving need to tell Finn about Maddy. He managed not to blurt it out, but several times, he came quite close.

 

Before he knew it, it was six-thirty and Jess was stirring, doing her zombie routine as usual, before her first cup of coffee. And Maddy, too, was up, a bright, bouncy presence that was seemingly designed to resist all attempts to get her ready for school.

 

But Jess, though barely awake, managed to get Maddy dressed and her homework together, while Poe made breakfast for them all. In between chatting with Finn, who had to notice Poe’s spotty presence, but didn’t ask.

 

_Sorry, just getting ready for the day. Things are a bit hectic around here._

 

Finn instantly responded.

 

**LOL, I understand. I’m a mess in the mornings, too. Peppy, but a mess.**

 

**:-D**

 

“Papa? Those waffles smell burn-y,” Maddy suddenly said, tugging on Poe’s t-shirt and looking up at him very solemnly.

 

“Oh, shit—I mean, sugar!” Poe put his phone down and checked the toaster oven. The waffles were, indeed, looking a little—maybe a lot—like charcoal brickettes. “Ah, crappity!”

 

“Whoa, that be some salty language thar, Cap’n!” Jess said, yawning as she came into the kitchen, fully dressed in her square-bear internship clothes of pleated slacks and a button-down pinstripe shirt. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a headband and she barely looked, with the help of concealer—the only make-up she ever wore—tired at all. “Man, those waffles smell a lot like char!”

 

“Oh, shuddup.” Poe grumped, glancing at his phone before he emptied the toasted oven. “I just . . . lost track of time.”

 

“So I smell—lemme guess: you were distracted by and checking your phone a lot? Perhaps the two are related. Is there something you’d like to share with your best friend?” Jess raised an eyebrow as she opened the fridge and began taking out leftovers from two nights ago, stacking them on the counter.

 

Poe had to admit defeat when Jess’s pile of leftovers appealed more than making another batch of waffles did. But he still put up a token protest. “Jess—that’s a little heavy for her for breakfast, isn’t it?”

 

“Nah,” Jess said, ruffling Maddy’s hair as Maddy climbed up on a stool. “This girl’s as much a Pava as she is a Dameron. Which means she’s got the constitution of an elephant. Right, Maddy?”

 

“Right!” Maddy agreed, grinning up at Poe. “I’m an elephant, Papa!”

 

“Bestest little elephant in the world, honey,” Poe kissed the top of Maddy’s head. “And that deserves a special breakfast. What say I treat you lovely ladies to _The Olympic Diner_?”

 

“Ooh, big spender!” Jess’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Yay! Papa, can I have a Belgian waffle for breakfast?” Maddy bounced on her stool and Poe raised an eyebrow.

 

“But we can have waffles _here_ , Jelly-bean.”

 

“Not _Belgian_ ones!” Maddy corrected him, then bounced on her stool again. “Yay! Belgian waffles! I’m gonna get my backpack!”

 

With that, Maddy hopped down off her stool and ran for the stairs.

 

Poe shared a fond glance with Jess and set about cleaning up the rather small mess he’d made.

 

“So,” Jess said, leaning against the counter and watching Poe put stuff away in the cabinets, the fridge, or the sink.

 

“A needle pulling thread, but what’s your point?” Poe retorted.

 

“Point is, you’ve been very secretive and quiet lately. Always holed up in your room on your laptop or playing on your phone when you think no one’s looking.” Jess snatched Poe’s phone up from the countertop, but Poe wasn’t worried. It’d probably already timed out and gone into rest/lock mode.

 

“Oh, my God, who even locks their phone, Poe Dameron?” Jess complained. Poe laughed and, having put the last of the breakfast supplies away, turned to Jess smugly.

 

“ _I_ do, Jessika Pava. So nosy people can’t snoop through it.”

 

“I wouldn’t _be_ nosy if you weren’t _hiding_ _something_.” Jess pouted, handing the phone to Poe when he held his hand out. “Hiding stuff! From your best friend! Shameful!”

 

“You don’t _have_ to know everything about me, just like I don’t know _everything_ about you. And speaking of,” Poe slipped his phone in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. “How’re things going between you and Rey-with-an-E?”

 

“None of your beeswax,” Jess said loftily. Poe rolled his eyes and crossed his arms patiently. Jess cracked in less than a minute. “Okay, things are going really, _really_ good!”

 

Poe grinned. “ _Master-Dates_ delivered?”

 

“Boy, did it ever!” Jess sighed happily, leaning on the counter. “Tomorrow night, we’re going out on our third actual date!”

 

Poe’s mouth dropped open. “For real? _Third_? When did the first date happen?” he demanded, feeling quite out of the loop. Jess snorted.

 

“Last week—I even told you about it. But you were on your phone tap-tap-tapping away, so I guess you didn’t notice.” Her eyebrows raised questioningly and Poe blushed.

 

“I may have misheard you . . . but I do remember you came home pretty late a few times, recently, and—” Poe’s eyes widened. “Are you two getting groinal _already_?”

 

“Poe! No, not yet!” Jess said haughtily. Then a sheepish smile stole across her face. “We’re still just in the making out and heavy-petting stage. But if things keep working out the way they have been . . . it’s not gonna be much longer.”

 

“So . . . you’d say that after almost two months of talking, and three dates, you’re about ready to move things to the next level?” Poe asked meekly. Jess shrugged. “Is that, like, a standard _everyone_ follows, or just a hard and fast rule for _this_ relationship?”

 

“It’s different for every relationship. Like, with Phasma? We both rushed into that. Should’ve waited longer to be intimate. Which is why I’m taking things so slow with Rey. Even though it’s a totally different scenario with a totally different woman, I still don’t want to risk turning it into another go-round with another Phasma.” Jess shrugged again. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Me? Oh, uh . . . no reason, I just—was curious.” Off Jess’s most stern and doubtful look, Poe sighed. “Okay, maybe there _is_ a reason. And maybe that reason is . . . I’m sort of talking with somebody I met online, and . . . I really like him.”

 

Jess’s eyes grew as wide and round as saucers and she bounced in place much like their daughter had.

 

“Oh, my God! Poe! Why didn’t you tell me?! How long has this been going on?”

 

“Um . . . a few weeks.”

 

“A few—you _tool!_ ” Jess whapped Poe on the arm hard, then hugged him. “This is so great! I’m so glad for you! I mean—things _are_ going okay with this guy, so far?”

 

“More than okay,” Poe admitted to her fruity-smelling hair, hugging her back even though his arm stung. “I . . . _really_ like him, Jess. More than I’ve liked anyone in . . . _ever_.”

 

“Wow, this is fantastic—what site did you meet him on? Ugh, please don’t say WeHarmony.” Jess looked up at him expectantly and Poe sighed, sensing the epic I-told-you-so she’d level at him.

 

“ _Master-Dates_.”

 

Jess’s eyes widened even further and she began to grin. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I must’ve gone temporarily mad or hallucinated for a few seconds, because it sounded like you said _Master-Dates_.”

 

“You’re so smug when you’re right, Pava, Jeez. It’s really unbecoming.”

 

Laughing, Jess hugged Poe again. “See, I _told_ you it was a good site! I met the future Mrs. Pava, and who knows? Maybe you’ve met the future Mr. Dameron! Ooh! What’s this mystery guy’s handle?”

 

“Ha! I’m not telling you, just so you can stalk him on _Master-Dates_!”

 

“Dude, I’m not a troll!” Jess sounded offended. In fact, the purple-nurple she gave him pretty much declared how offended she was. “You could at least give me his first name!”

 

“Ow!” Poe swatted her hand away from his chest and backed away from her. “No! No names period—the purple-nurple didn’t convince me, surprisingly!”

 

Jess glared. “Yeah? Well, there’s more purple-nurple where _that_ came fro—”

 

“What’s a purple-nurple?”

 

Both Poe and Jess startled and turned to see Maddy, all dressed and carrying her backpack, standing in the doorway, looking curious, indeed.

 

“Uh . . . I’ll let Mama explain that while I go get dressed,” Poe said quickly, smiling a smug smile of his own as he strode out of the kitchen, with a pat on the head for Maddy, leaving Jess to explain to their daughter the aforementioned purple-nurple.

 

Once in his bedroom, Poe sat his bed, taking out his phone. BB-8 was just beginning to stir. In a matter of seconds, she’d already shaken herself awake and was looking at him eagerly.

 

“Go on, girl! Food in the kitchen, remember!” Poe pointed out the door to the hall. BB-8 followed his finger with her gaze, then looked back at Poe questioningly. “Go on! Get food!”

 

He kept gesturing toward the door till BB-8 seemed to get it and, with a happy, high bark, ran out the door. Poe smiled as he heard her nails click down the staircase.

 

Then he was unlocking his phone. The _Master-Dates_ chat-window had greyed out along the information bar at the top, meaning that Finn wasn’t online anymore. And indeed, the last few messages from Finn said he would be going offline until noon, but that he hoped they could pick up their conversation later.

 

Smiling to himself, Poe got dressed quickly, and packed his laptop and power cable in their bag and went to rejoin his family.

 

#

 

Poe’s cellphone rang at five after nine p.m.

 

And it rang again.

 

It was on the third ring—it wouldn’t do to seem desperate or over-eager—that he picked up. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, is this Poe?” A deep, masculine voice said. Poe shivered as a pleasant tingle rushed up and down his spine.

 

“Um. That, uh, depends on who’s calling. . . .”

 

“You know, you sound just like I imagined,” the guy on the other end said, sounding amused and relaxed, for his part. “This is Finn, from _Master-Dates_.”

 

Despite being alone in his room, Poe still grinned and blushed. “Hi, Finn.”

 

“Hey.” Finn laughed. “I was seriously beginning to wonder if you had a thing against us finally hearing each other’s voices.”

 

Poe laughed, too. “I just . . . didn’t wanna rush things.”

 

“ _Rush_? Dude, we’ve been chatting for, like, over a month! That’s practically forever!” Poe could tell Finn was only half-joking. “Seriously, though, what made you finally give me your number? Was it my many sad emojis?”

 

“No, I find I’m unmoved by emojis.”

 

“You stone-hearted bastard.”

 

“I am. I really am.” Poe laid back in bed, smiling. “And I guess it finally just seemed like it was the right time for phone chit-chat. So, tell me all about your day?”

 

“Even _my_ dulcet tones can’t make a day like I’ve had palatable.” Finn laughed mirthlessly. “I’d rather hear all about _your_ day, all the things you’ve done with it, and all in that sexy voice of yours.”

 

“What things? I woke up, went flying with a student, went grocery shopping, stopped at the cleaners, came home, made dinner—it didn’t turn out too bad—messaged you and then you called, and boom. Here we are. Now,” Poe bit back a yawn. “About _your_ day. . . ?”

 

Finn groaned. “You’re not gonna let it go, are you?”

 

“Nope. We’ve already talked way too much about me. It’s my turn to prove _I’m_ a good listener.”

 

Finn gave another low, breathy groan that did interesting things, indeed, to Poe’s body. Poe forced himself to focus less on Finn’s voice and more on the words he was saying.

 

“Well . . . I got back that paper I told you I had to write for my Art History class. My professor, James Denton, who makes us call him doctor—not Mr. or Professor—gave me a fucking B+! A B-fucking-plus!” Finn said, sounding more than mildly affronted. “I’ve never gotten less than an A in any of my history classes. To get it _now_ , from a guy who’s named after a shitty brand of pajamas, is really grinding my gears. . . .”

 

#

 

“So . . . you let me have your number, I gave you mine, and we’ve been calling each other to talk for the past ten days. And it’s been wonderful, but . . . when are you gonna let me take you to dinner, Poe?”

 

Blushing—as Finn always seemed to inspire in him—Poe grabbed a honeydew melon, shook it, was satisfied it wasn’t _too_ ripe, and placed it in the cart alongside two of its brethren. Then he was wheeling the cart toward the potatoes and onions, his phone wedged up between his right ear and right shoulder.

 

“I . . . I just don’t wanna move things too fast.”

 

“Are you afraid I’ll pressure you into . . . _The Sex_?” Finn asked playfully, and Poe chuckled and grabbed a likely-looking bag of yellow onions and a few loose Vidalia onions, as well.

 

“No, Finn, I’m not afraid you’ll pressure me into The Sex.”

 

“Well, you _should_ be, because I’m one horny, persistent bastard!”

 

Poe nearly dropped his phone in the bin with the bags of potatoes because he laughed so hard. “Finn, you are many things, but you are _not_ the pressuring type. You’re far too sweet and respectful and charming.”

 

“Aw, shucks. Well, you’re right about me not being the pressure-y type, at least. You make it impossible for me to be anything but a gentleman to you.” Finn sighed loudly, gustily. Then laughed, himself. “Even though I _really_ wanna get you someplace private and do dirty, _naughty_ things to you.”

 

Poe, in a teasing mood, almost asked: _What kinds of dirty, naughty things?_ but then he remembered he was in the middle of a supermarket, not at home, as usual. And he was not going to have his first attempt at phone sex while elbow deep in the potato bin at the supermarket.

 

“I’d totally take the bait you just threw out there, except that I’m in a public place. One I don’t want to get banned from for life for violating public decency laws.”

 

Finn chuckled. “See, this is why we should meet up in person. We have so much fun just chatting online or talking on the phone—imagine how much fun it’d be _in person_!”

 

Poe dropped his bag of potatoes in the cart and moved on to the kale, which he didn’t like, but Jess swore by it. “You’re only saying that because you’re so incorrigible and you want a partner in crime.”

 

“Well, you’re half-right. About that last bit.”

 

It took Poe a moment, then he was smiling as a warm feeling spread through him. He sighed. “You know, when you say things like that, you make it hard to tell you _no_.”

 

“Good! So _don’t_ tell me _no_ , this time. Tell me _yes_! We could meet up wherever, whenever, for however long you like. Provided it doesn’t conflict with my class schedule,” Finn added apologetically.

 

“Well. . . .”

 

“C’mon, Poe, we have to meet, sometime,” Finn said, sounding more serious, now, than anything. “I really think we should get together, so you can see that the chemistry we have is both real and powerful. That it’ll only be more powerful when we meet and mesh in person.”

 

“That’s kinda what I’m afraid of,” slipped out and Poe swore under his breath. There was silence from Finn’s end of the line for nearly a minute.

 

“Why would you be afraid that we’d mesh together, Poe?” Finn finally asked, sounding more confused than anything. Poe sighed.

 

“Because . . . what if do meet up and we like each other and things seem to go well, until—” _until I tell you I have a child and you freak. Until I wind up with a broken heart and you’re off chasing and charming the next guy._ “I guess, what if you find out something about me you don’t like and . . . you decide I’m not worth all this effort and trouble?”

 

Another long silence from Finn, before he said: “I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna happen, Poe. I like you a lot. More than any guy I’ve ever dated—and all of _them_ I knew in person. Yet they don’t even hold a candle to _you_ , who I just know from texting and talking with on the phone, but who I nonetheless am _strongly_ drawn to.”

 

Poe nearly ran over an old lady with his cart, apologized to her—she called him a _fuckwad_ , but hurriedly moved out of his way—then made his way to the avocados. “But you don’t know everything about me—”

 

“And I may never know _everything_ about you.” Finn interrupted Poe to say. “But I feel like that doesn’t matter because I already know the _important_ things, like—you’re smart and funny. And kind. And you snore like a demon when you fall asleep while we talk on the phone.”

 

“Do not,” Poe said, laughing and blushing.

 

“You totally do. And you know what? Even _that_ is cute and wonderful and amazing to me. Everything _about_ _you_ is cute and wonderful and amazing! The more I know, the more I _want_ to know about you!”

 

“And you’re not afraid there’s some big deal-breaker in my history or even in my current life that’d drive you away?” Poe asked, grabbing a head of broccoli from the upper tray of the same. It was only so-so, and he put it back for a bigger, healthier specimen from the lower tray. “Some big Daphne du Maurier-type secret?”

 

“And he even knows _Rebecca_? Jeez, Poe . . . jeez.” Finn laughed. “Right now, I don’t think finding out you were a _serial killer_ would put much of a dent in my heart-on for you.”

 

A silence, then: “But seriously, you’re not a serial killer, are you?”

 

“No, Finn, I’m not a serial killer. Not since before the Air Force,” Poe said sardonically, and the woman digging through the Swiss chard in the next tray over, gave him a strange look before finally just grabbing any old stalk of Swiss chard and making tracks. Snorting, he quickly grabbed another head of broccoli and moved on, himself.

 

“Well. There you go. What could you possibly have to tell me that’s as bad as your good ol’ days as a serial killer?”

 

“It’s not that it’s a _bad_ thing, Finn, it’s just . . . I’m gonna be honest, it might put you off of me.”

 

“Then, how ‘bout this: we meet up, tomorrow morning, if you’re free, at this place I love called _The Java Cave_ —”  

 

“That’s my favorite coffeehouse! _And_ , they make the best cinnamon chip scones and iced lavender-green tea in the history of ever!” Poe enthused and Finn laughed.

 

“Well, I’m glad you like the place. We can meet there, tomorrow, ten a.m. and just sit and talk and eat scones.” There was a smile and hope in Finn’s low, sexy voice. “Maybe take a walk in the park if you feel like. And while we talk, you can just tell me what this deal-breaker thing is—slip it into conversation, like it was something I already knew. I probably won’t even notice it, whatever it is. Or if I do, it won’t traumatize me for life, and I’ll just make note of it and maybe ask some questions, then move on.”

 

And Finn sounded so reasonable. So . . . easy and open-minded, that Poe finally gave in. “Okay, Finn. Okay. Just . . . don’t say I didn’t warn you. I mean, it’s nothing bad—in fact, it’s something I find really . . . wonderful and exciting and just—delightful. But you may be mad I didn’t tell you sooner. You’d have every right to be. And to be honest, I’ve scared other guys off, in the past by telling them.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m not other guys,” Finn reminded Poe.

 

“Well, I hope that’s true,” Poe replied, wondering if this could be his last phone conversation with Finn. Just the thought made him queasy. “I sincerely do.”

 

#

 

“Knock-knock, Jess?”

 

“Come on in, Poe.”

 

Poe let himself into Jess’s room. She was sitting in bed, jim-jams on, with only her bedside lamp for light. She was reading some thick textbook with tiny print, a highlighter in one hand, and a stress ball in the other. But she was all smiles as she looked up at Poe. “Heyya!”

 

“Hey,” Poe said, shuffling over to her bed and sitting down. Jess immediately put down the highlighter and slung her arm around his shoulders. “How’s engineering treating you?”

 

“Making me its bitch.”

 

“Wow. Sounds like fun.”

 

“ _Loads_ of fun.”

 

“Huh.” Poe leaned his head against hers. “And how’re things going with Rey?”

 

“Pretty good. Pretty fucking _spectacular_ , actually.” Jess chuckled. “She feels like a keeper.”

 

“Oh, really? How _else_ does she feel, giggity-giggity?”

 

Jess sat up, blushing and smiling a tad goofily. “Don’t ask unless you want exhaustive details about lesbian sex.”

 

Poe made a face. “Uh . . . I withdraw the question.”

 

“I thought you might.” Chuckling again, Jess elbowed Poe. “So, how’re things with the mystery-guy? Still, uh—mysterious?”

 

“Yeah. But not for long,” Poe smiled anxiously. “We, uh, actually agreed to meet up tomorrow morning at _The Java Cave_ , and—”

 

Jess squealed and looped her strong arms around Poe’s neck, nearly throttling him to death. “Oh, my God! This is _so_ exciting! _Are_ you excited? Oh, my God, he’s gonna _love_ you!”

 

“That remains to be seen,” Poe muttered, but Jess didn’t even seem to hear him.

 

“Are you really into him, so far?” she asked. “Like, just dying to meet him, but playing it cool.”

 

Poe sighed. “As cool as I’ve been able to. But lately, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve been getting pretty warm.”

 

“For his _form_!” Jess crowed, giggling. “This is so fantastic! You and I _both_ finding _l’amour_ at the same time! What’re the odds?”

 

“Jeez, Jess, I don’t even believe in jinxes, and I think you’re jinxing me. Not to mention _you_.” Poe groaned.

 

“Oh, I didn’t jinx nothing! No whammy!” she added, just in case. “Once you two meet, _your_ natural charm is gonna bowl him over. He’ll be yours the moment you say ‘hi’ and flash that sexy Hot-Dameron smile!”

 

Poe rolled his eyes. “My Hot-Dameron days are well behind me, Jess.”

 

“Not so, grasshopper, not so. You just got stuck in a _Not_ -Dameron rut. But you’ve been pulling yourself out of it, lately. Actually dressing up nice like you used to, to go out. And if you can do that for tomorrow’s coffee-date, you should be all set.” Jess took Poe’s arm and hugged it. “Seriously, Poe, you deserve to be in love with a nice, non-crazy guy. One who can knock down that Berlin Wall you’ve got around your heart.”

 

“I—don’t have a wall around my heart.”

 

Jess looked at him disbelievingly. “You’re thirty-four, dude, and you’ve only been in one relationship. When you were seventeen. And that guy fucked your heart over so bad, you’ve been avoiding relationships ever since. The fuck you _don’t_ have a wall up around your heart. I’m gonna start calling this mystery-guy _miracle_ -guy, because I dunno what kinda magic he’s got, but it’s some _strong_ _juju_ if it got through to _you_.”

 

Poe huffed. “Well, don’t get too used to the idea of me seeing someone, because I didn’t tell the miracle-guy I have a child, and that kind of a bombshell tends to scare guys off, in my experience.”

 

“You— _what_? _How_ long have you been talking with this guy, and you haven’t told him about Maddy, _yet_?” Jess demanded.

 

“I didn’t mean to keep her like some dirty secret, I just—the time never seemed right after the first few times we talked. And then I was anxious about telling him, so I put it off and put it off, and now—I have to tell him tomorrow.” Poe hung his head under Jess’s harsh look.

 

“Why tomorrow? Why not put it off till you’re about to say vows with the guy?”

 

“Very funny.” Poe pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told him that there was something I wasn’t telling him, that it was a pretty big something in my life and that other guys usually disappeared after I told them. All of which is true.”

 

Jess sighed, shaking her head. “Jeez, Poe. For future reference, the _I have a child_ -conversation shouldn’t happen more than two weeks into chatting with someone. The longer you keep a child secret, the more of a secret she becomes.” She put her hand on Poe’s shoulder and he covered her hand with his own.

 

“I didn’t mean to keep Maddy secret, I just—I got scared he’d end it if I told him. Then I was scared he’d be so mad that I didn’t tell him sooner, that even if he was cool with it, he’d drop me on principle.” He looked at Jess. She didn’t look angry, anymore, just exasperated. “I really like him, Jess. I want this—whatever it is between us—to _work_. To have a _chance_ at working. Maddy’s not a dirty secret. She’s the joy of my life. If someone doesn’t like even the idea of her, let alone the reality, then they’re no one I want to be with, period. It’s just . . . I really _like_ this guy, Jess. He makes me feel special . . . and less lonely. But in all likelihood, he’s probably gonna dump me on GP, for lying to him for so long, never mind what I was lying about.”

 

Poe shrugged miserably and Jess’s exasperation faded from her face. She slung her arm around his shoulder once more and leaned against him. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe he feels the same way? And he wouldn’t run away from you just because you have a child and he _might_ forgive you for lying?”

 

“Of course I’ve _considered_ it, Jess, I just . . . I can’t rest all my hope on it. Damnit,” Poe breathed around the big, breath-stealing welling in his chest. “I feel like I’m due to march off to my execution tomorrow, not a date with an amazing guy I have the hots for.”

 

Jess laughed and squeezed Poe tight. “You really have no experience with dating, do you? I mean, beyond picking up a practical stranger and taking them to bed?”

 

“None, whatsoever.” Poe laughed a little, though there were tears on his face. “I’m amazed I even got this far without alienating him or putting him off me. I’ve been waiting for that shoe to drop, and it looks like it’s gonna, tomorrow.”

 

“No, it’s not. Those guys that you used to see were assholes. A _real man_ can handle his significant other having a child. Especially one as lovely and smart and good as our Maddy. Right?”

 

“Right,” Poe mumbled.

 

“I can’t hear you, soldier. I said: RIGHT?”

 

“RIGHT, sir! Yes, sir!” Poe said, laughing a little. Jess joined in. “Okay, enough about me and my anxiety, distract me with something happy. Tell me for real: How are things going with you and Rey?”

 

That blissed out smile crossed Jess’s face and she closed her textbook. “Well,” she began in a soft voice like Poe had only ever heard her use when Maddy was a baby. “We’ve been seeing each other a lot, lately, and things have been going so great. I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time to bring her home . . . to meet you and Maddy. . . .”

 

TBC


	3. The Courtship of Maddy's Father 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written per Sleepingwiththesoldier’s prompt: (http://sleepingwiththesoldier.tumblr.com/post/139366735945/otpandkids-person-a-is-looking-on-dating-sites) Person A is looking on dating sites for a girlfriend/boyfriend, when they meet Person B, and they hit it off fast. They build a great relationship over time, until A suggests meeting up in person. Unable to keep it a secret any longer, B confesses to A after meeting up that they have a child(ren). It’s up to the author if things go downhill from there or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: Vague spoilers for Episode VII.

Poe was awake extra early the next morning.

 

It was a sunny Thursday, the kind of day that hinted at things to come—a balmy, long summer and a gentle fall. But Poe’s mind was on other things. Nonetheless, he managed to make everyone a relatively healthy breakfast, and get them all out the door. Jess went to her internship and he dropped Maddy off at school. Then he went home, walked BB-8, took a shower, then obsessed over what to wear to his first meeting with Finn.

 

After practically tearing his closet apart looking for the elusive perfect outfit, he finally settled on a pair of black trousers that fit so well, it was like they were tailored, a charcoal-colored, button-down shirt, his brown leather jacket, and the black Chelsea boots Jess had gotten him for his birthday last year.

 

Looking in his mirror, he confirmed that Poe hot-Dameron wasn’t _totally_ gone. Not when Poe was _this_ fine. This _fierce_. This—

 

—early for his meeting with Finn.

 

It wasn’t even nine a.m. Not for another seven minutes

 

It took literally three minutes to drive to _The Java Cave_. Maybe ten minutes to walk it on a nice day.

 

Sighing, and dressed too nice to do much of anything, Poe decided to leave a little—a lot—early and just take a slow, leisurely walk to the coffeehouse.

 

He left BB-8 sleeping on his bed and checked to make sure the house was locked-down then patted himself down for the usual suspects of keys, phone, chapstick, and wallet.

 

Everything present and accounted for—most especially his ratcheting anxiety—Poe headed out the door.

 

#

 

From the moment Poe sat down with his mocha latte and double-chocolate chip muffin, every person who entered _The Java Cave_ —a coffeehouse, during the rush hours—was Finn, and then . . . not.

 

Finally, Poe got tired of looking up every time the doorbell dinged, signaling another customer. He took out his phone and played a little online Scrabble. And he was winning this round against some anonymous player and sipping his cooled latte, when someone cleared his throat from just behind Poe, startling him. Poe choked on the mouthful of latte, and proceeded to cough it up all over his fancy—dry clean-only—shirt.

 

“Ah, jeez, I’m sorry—that was my bad,” a familiar voice said, and Poe, coughing on the back of his hand, glanced up and was so floored he forgot to keep coughing up the remainder of the latte in his lungs.

 

Well, forgot for a few moments, anyway. Because there, standing at his elbow, was the most gorgeous man Poe’d ever seen. He, like Poe, was dressed in black—well, a black turtleneck over blue jeans, and red Converse All-Stars. He was holding a cup of something hot, which meant he’d come in, walked past Poe and to the counter, without Poe even noticing.

 

Coughing again, Poe bounced up out of his chair, offering his dry, un-coughed on hand to Finn, who seemed a bit dazed, but took the proffered hand. He had a solid grip and good shake, without being intimidating.

 

“Well, I’ve never heard you coughing up your trachea, but I’m pretty sure it’s you,” Finn said finally, smiling his movie star smile as he held onto Poe’s hand. “You’re even more handsome than your photo.”

 

“Oh, go on.” Poe blushed and gave one last herculean cough before subsiding. “I’m covered in my latte and horking up a lung. There’s nothing handsome about that.”

 

Finn grinned and shrugged, drawing attention to broad, solid shoulders on which Poe wanted to place his hands then cover those shoulders with kisses. “You know, you’re right. I guess this date’s a bust. Sorry to have wasted your time. . . .”

 

Poe rolled his eyes. Yep, this was the same guy he’d been talking to for over a month. “Smartass.”

 

Laughing, Finn moved past Poe—he had a bit of a limp that clearly pained him a little—and sat himself down in the chair across from Poe’s. Poe sat himself down, as well.

 

“So,” Finn said, when the staring and smiling at each other had gone on for a minute. “Uh, what time did you get here?”

 

Poe blushed. “A little after nine.”

 

Finn whistled. “I figured showing up half an hour early would give me time to relax and quietly freak out about meeting you in person, but when I showed up, you were already sitting here, playing on your phone. I could see you before I even came in.”

 

Poe turned even redder, looking down at the table. Finn’s hand was, of course, darker than Poe’s and a bit larger. “Yeah, I decided to play Scrabble to calm my nerves, since jumping every time the bell over the door dinged was just making me even more nervous.”

 

Finn’s hand inched across the table until his fingertips touched the tips of Poe’s fingers. Then his hand was covering Poe’s lightly.

 

“Don’t be nervous,” Finn said when Poe looked up, surprised, but not pulling his hand away. Finn smiled. “Or, be nervous, but just know that I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t run off screaming and I’m not about to.”

 

Poe smiled and opened his mouth to say something witty and cutting at his own expense, and instead, blurted out: “I have a daughter. She’s four. Her name’s Maddy. Madeline.”

 

And in the silence that followed—and in which Finn didn’t seem terribly startled, his eyebrows lifting a little in acknowledgement, but not surprise—Poe took another sip of the dregs of his latte, and waited for Finn to say . . . whatever it was in him to say.

 

Finally, Finn opened his mouth and leaned forward in his chair. Poe braced himself for what was coming—yelling? Screaming? Quietly whispered recriminations? Who knew?—making sure to swallow his mouthful of mocha _before_ Finn could speak.

 

“I know this is a stupid question,” Finn began somberly, then grinned, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t happen to have an adorable photo of Maddy on your phone, by any chance?”

 

And Poe didn’t realize how wound up he’d been until every muscle within him—well, almost every muscle—let go of tension with an almost audible sigh.

 

Then he was returning Finn’s grin and swiping through his apps to his gallery of photos. “You joke, my handsome friend, but—hoo, boy! Did you ever ask the _wrong dad_ to see _an_ _adorable_ photo. I’ve got about a _zillion_!”

 

Finn nodded, still grinning. “Bring ‘em on, Poe.”

 

#

  
“And here’s one of the last Disney World photos. She’s kinda blowing chunks on Cinderella because I let her ride that damned teacup-ride _twice_ that morning,” Poe said, shaking his head. “I was _not_ smart-thinking-Papa, that day.”

 

“Ugh, I remember the teacup ride from when our Dads took me and my sister there. I managed not to puke, but she was spewing projectile vomit, like in _The Exorcist_. Only it was ever so many more colors than green,” Finn said, making a face. Poe laughed and swiped to the next photo. It was of Maddy making a face as she posed with Goofy, her least favorite Disney character.

 

“Well, at least your sis learned her lesson after one go. Maddy had to ride it twice before she realized she didn’t like it,” Poe said, showing the Goofy-picture to Finn, who smiled.

 

“She’s so cute. And she looks just like you.”

 

“Nah, she looks just like her _mother_ —I showed you Jess, right?” Poe began swiping through the photos again, but Finn chuckled and nodded.

 

“But when she smiles—and when she pukes—she looks just like her daddy.”

 

Poe rolled his eyes and laughed again. “Gee, thanks.”

 

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” Finn shrugged, clearly biting back some laughter of his own.

 

Putting the phone in his jacket pocket, Poe bit his lip. “Okay, I’ve been boring you to tears with photos of my child for nearly forty minutes. Are you gonna ever address the fact that I didn’t tell you about her until now?”

 

Finn sighed, leaning back in his chair, seeming quite unconcerned. “You mean am I gonna get all bent out of shape because you didn’t tell me as soon as I messaged you that you had a child? Or flip out because you didn’t put it in your profile?”

 

Poe nodded. “Well, yeah.”

 

“Nope.” Finn shrugged. “I’m curious as to _why_ , but I do have my guesses about why you _didn’t_ _mention_ having a little girl. Considering how some guys disappear on a dude with kids, I’m not surprised that you wanted me to get to know you some, before you told me. And then, as time went on, it probably just got harder to find a conversational opening to say: _Hey, by the way, I have a child_.”

 

Poe blinked, then laughed a little. “Yeah, that was . . . pretty much what passed for my reasoning. I mean, at first I didn’t want to tell a guy I hadn’t met about my daughter, and then, even though I _wanted_ to tell you, I’d taken so long to get to the point where I felt I could, that I didn’t know how to broach the subject.” Poe hung his head and shook it. “I owe you an apology, Finn.”

 

“You really don’t, Poe.” Now, Finn sounded uncomfortable.

 

“Actually, I do.” Poe met Finn’s dark gaze and smiled a little. “I’m sorry I kept her from you. Sorry I didn’t trust that you’d be a stand-up guy and not disappear on me because you couldn’t handle the fact that I have a child. And even if you didn’t want to deal with that or get to know a man with a kid, that was your right. I should’ve told you—or at least posted it in my profile, since you seemed to enjoy reading that so much.”

 

Finn laughed. “What can I say? You give great profile.” Leaning forward again, he covered Poe’s hand with his once more. “Anyway, apology accepted, even though it’s unnecessary. But just to make sure . . . you don’t have anything else you’ve been waiting to tell me, do you?”

 

“Nope. Not a damn thing.” Poe linked his fingers with Finn’s. The other man smiled his movie star-smile and squeezed Poe’s fingers gently. “Poe Dameron is secret-free as of this moment.”

 

“Good.” Finn tilted his head curiously. “Poe Dameron . . . I just realized that all the time we’ve been talking, I didn’t know your last name. And you don’t know mine.”

 

“Want me to guess again? I just might get it right.”

 

“Ugh, no, you’re the _worst_ guesser of names—except for that _one_ time you guessed right,” Finn added before Poe could. Then Finn snickered. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Poe Dameron. I’m Finn Antilles-Skywalker.”

 

Poe’s eyes widened until they were the size of dinner plates. “ _That’s_ your full name? Wow. It must be fun endorsing checks.”

 

Finn snorted. “It’s a blast. And actually, my _full_ name is Finn _Nicholas_ Antilles-Skywalker. I’ve got names for days.” he said wryly.

 

“Truer words . . . so, Skywalker . . . is that Native American?”

 

Finn shrugged again. “If I dug into the family history far enough, it just might be. Dad’s kind of a mutt. So’s Pops, for that matter.”

 

Poe bit his lip while he thought. Then he shook his head. “I know this might sound weird, but Skywalker . . . sounds familiar to me, for some reason.”

 

“Maybe you’ve met my Dad and forgotten?” Finn offered helpfully. “Though he’s pretty unforgettable.” He laughed. “Dad writes a lot of academic papers and gets interviewed for historical journals and stuff. Maybe that’s where you know the name from.”

 

“Hmm . . . I don’t read a lot about history. But maybe I did meet him, at some point.” Poe’s brow furrowed. That didn’t feel quite right, either. He’d never _met_ a person named Skywalker— _that_ , he would’ve remembered—but he definitely knew the name from somewhere. Maybe the Air Force. . . ?

 

Finn suddenly grinned. “Or maybe you met my aunt—but no, she was never a Skywalker.” Off of Poe’s curious glance, Finn went on. “She and my Dad were separated at birth—he was raised by their uncle and aunt, and she was adopted and raised by a senator and his wife. Ever heard of Bail Organa?”

 

“Oh, yeah! In civics class in high school.” Poe shook his head incredulously. “Wow, you’re related to _him_?”

 

“As much as I’m related to _anyone_ in my crazy family,” Finn said, laughing. “I—my sister _and_ I were adopted by our fathers when we were nine.”

 

“Really? Wow,” Poe said, uncertain whether to offer some sort of condolences, or not. But then Finn didn’t seem sad, so Poe decided to follow his cue. “At least you were adopted by a good family,” he ventured, and Finn nodded.

 

“The _best_ family.” Finn laughed. “Dad always claims that we were special. That’s why he and Pop adopted us. That we were exactly what was needed to complete their family.”

 

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Poe said warmly, smiling.

 

“Yeah . . . though Pop always jokes that Dad just wanted to play Keeping Up With the Solos.” Finn chuckled once more and Poe started to chuckle, too, but then went cold.

 

“The . . . Solos?” he asked through numb lips. His voice sounded small and breathless and his eyes were open so wide, it felt as if they’d fall out of their sockets.

 

“Yeah—that’s my Aunt Leia’s family. Dad’s sister. She married Uncle Han a bajillion years ago and they have a son, named—”

 

“Ben,” Poe exhaled heavily, and Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “Ben Solo.”

 

“Yes—you’ve met them?” Finn seemed surprised, but pleased. Poe, on the other hand, was far from pleased, because he remembered where he’d heard the name Skywalker. Rather, where he was _likely_ to have heard it. Ben hadn’t talked about his family often, but when he did, he’d probably mentioned an uncle with the unforgettable name _Skywalker_.

 

“Yeah, I’ve met them, I—” Poe shook his head and stood up suddenly, pulling his hand from Finn’s. The other man looked confused. But he probably wasn’t nearly as confused as Poe, who stammered out something about having forgotten an appointment, and hurried to the front of the coffeehouse.

 

Finn stood up quickly, wincing. “Wait—Poe—where are you—”

 

But Poe had already bolted out the door, nearly knocking over an entering customer in the process.

 

#

 

Poe’s phone was ringing.

 

It had been, intermittently, all day, but Poe had gotten good at ignoring it. At ignoring just about everything that wasn’t the glass of wine he was sure to keep at hand.

 

He knew that, sooner or later, Finn would get tired of calling—tired of wondering—and just give up. And he’d certainly stop texting Poe things like: _What happened? Are you okay? Did I offend you? Please let me know you’re okay. . . ._

 

Sighing, Poe checked the time. It was nearly two p.m. He’d have to do something about getting Maddy from school. He couldn’t call Jess to do it, because she was at her internship. He couldn’t call his father, because Kes Dameron was currently out of town, visiting family back in Ye Olde Miami.

 

BB-8 certainly couldn’t pick Maddy up, being under-aged, unlicensed, and a dog. And anyway, after Poe had gotten home and taken her for a rather truncated walk to relieve herself, the puppy had fallen asleep in the living room, on the couch.

 

She’d been all big, dark, worried eyes and caring canine kisses till Poe had gently rubbed her belly: the fastest way to send BB-8 off to dreamland. And there she’d been ever since.

 

 _Well, at least one of us can sleep like a baby_ , Poe thought heavily.

 

The phone started ringing again. Poe groaned and picked it up off the counter. He nearly threw it across the kitchen, but out of nowhere he remembered: _Pamela Maxwell_ —mother of one of Maddy’s closest friends, Cecily. She’d been wanting to schedule a play date for the girls for a while.

 

 _She’d_ probably be able to pick up Maddy and even let her have that play date with Cecily for a few hours. . . .

 

 _At least_ a few hours, hopefully, because Poe was in no shape to remember where his car keys were, let alone to drive anywhere. And, well . . . Maddy had never seen her Papa so much as tipsy, let alone full-on _drunk_. And she wasn’t about to.

 

Ten minutes later, Poe was hanging up the phone and Maddy was squared away till seven p.m. Time enough for Poe to take a nap and sober up. Though the last thing he wanted was to be _sober_. When he was sober, he thought clearly, and when he thought clearly . . . there was really only one thing to think _about_. And when he thought about that one thing . . . everything _hurt_.

 

Left with his intermittently ringing phone, an empty glass, and nowhere to go and nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon, Poe sighed, wiping his eyes as he bent all his determination on thinking about _nothing_.

 

Then he went to the fridge and opened it, grabbing the half-finished bottle of wine. That, and the empty glass in hand, Poe made his way up to his bedroom.

 

He left the ringing phone on the table.

 

#

 

Poe regained consciousness because of someone shaking him.

 

“Poe? Jeez, you smell like a distillery— _Poe Dameron. Wake up_.”

 

Groaning and clutching his empty wine bottle, Poe tried to turn away from the source of the speaking and the shaking, meaning to sleep till the pounding in his head went away. But those hands weren’t having it. Not at all.

 

“Lemme ‘lone,” he whined, but the hands wouldn’t stop shaking him. Well, one of the hands did, and only to rip the wine bottle from him. Then both hands were shaking him again.

 

“No way. You’re at least gonna drink a _little_ water so you don’t wake up tomorrow with a marching band inside your skull. C’mon, _Papi_ , good for what ails ya.”

 

Poe groaned again, letting the hands roll him onto his back. He squinted open his eyes and, in the dim light and spinning room, could just make out Jess’s face. All three of it.

 

“Pava?”

 

“Yep, it’s me, Cap’n. C’mon, sit up a little, so you don’t choke on this water.”

 

“Pava . . . I met him today, an’ . . . he’s . . . he’s. . . .”

 

“A jerk? I kinda figured he must be when I saw how trashed you got.” Jess sighed. “I’m sorry, Poe. I really am.”

 

“No-no-no, not a jerk, he’s . . . sweet . . . an’ funny. An’ _hot_ , oh, my God! An’ he looked at aaaaall my pictures of Maddy! Even the Disney ones!”

 

Frowning, Jess helped Poe sit up, then sat next to him on the bed. “Then why’d you go on a bender, if this guy’s so great?”

 

Poe sniffled, closing his eyes because the backs of them stung like he was going to cry. And he didn’t want to cry. Especially not in front of tough-as-nails Pava.

 

But a few seconds later, tears were falling, anyway, and Jess put the glass of water down to hug him.

 

“C’mon, Poe, tell me what happened. You’ll feel better.”

 

“Nothin’ happened. ‘Cept he’s—he’s—”

 

“What? A leprechaun? Jimmy Hoffa? The Walrus? _What_?”

 

“ _He’s Ben-fucking-Solo’s cousin!_ ”

 

Jess blinked. Then shook her head disbelievingly. “Ben Solo as in _your crazy ex-boyfriend, Ben Solo_?”

 

Poe nodded. “We were talkin’ an’ he just— _said_ _it_ , like it didn’ mean _anythin’_ to him.”

 

“Wow . . . well, to be fair, to him, it probably _didn’t_ mean anything.” Sighing, Jess shook her head and picked up the glass of water again, holding it to Poe’s lips. “ _Madre de dios_ , you have the worst luck with men. C’mon, _Papi_ , take a sip. You’ll feel better if you drink some water.”

 

Poe took a few sips, then pushed the glass away. “Oh, God, Pava, how could I have been so stupid? I’m datin’ Ben’s _cousin_! _Crazy-Ben’s_ cousin! I’m an idiot!”

 

“No, you’re not an idiot. How could you have known that it’s _that_ small a world, after all?”

 

“I shoulda known ‘cause it was inna—innernet dating.” Poe slurred firmly. “I shoulda _known_. I shoulda—wait—where’s Maddy? Where’s my Jelly-bean?”

 

“The Jelly-bean’s already in bed, asleep. Pamela Maxwell called me around seven-thirty when she couldn’t get ahold of you. I skipped the rest of my evening class to bring Maddy home.” Jess said, but not angrily. No, her voice was as kind as Poe’d ever heard it. More tears rolled out of his eyes and his nose started to run.

 

“Oh, God, I’m—a fuckin’ mess!” he exclaimed, laying back down and rolling onto his side away from Jess. “Don’ even look at me, I’m so messed up!”

 

“I’ve seen you worse, than this, Dameron. Not _much_ _worse_ , but worse.” Jess curled up behind him in bed, wrapping her arm around him. “It’ll be alright, _Papi_ , I promise.”

 

“No, it won’.” Poe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That made the spinning and trebled vision ease up just a little. He sighed and closed his eyes. “He was so _perfec’_ , Pava! Everythin’ I ever wanted in a guy, an’ then some! An’ then he had to go an’ be Ben’s fuckin’ _cousin_!”

 

“Well, I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it on purpose, Poe, but . . . if that’s the only thing you don’t like about this guy, and he definitely rocks your world, are you gonna let a little thing like blood get in the way?” Jess made a disappointed, clucking sort of sound. “That’s not the Captain Hot-Dameron _I_ know and would follow to Hell and back.”

 

Poe moaned into his pillow. “’S not a matter of _blood_ , Pava. Finn’s adopted, an’way. ‘S a matter of seein’ Ben Solo’s stupid face every time I look at Finn an’ bein’ reminded of the worst time in my life!”

 

“Huh, that’s being a bit melodra—wait, your guy’s name is _Finn_?”

 

“Yeah . . . not _my_ guy, though.” Poe said sadly, sniffling once again as a few extra tears escaped.

 

“Rey has a brother named Finn. They were adopted together when they were nine,” Jess said softly, as if speaking more to herself than to Poe, who was, at this point, barely conscious.

 

“Finn Nicholas . . . _somethin’_ -Skywalker,” he slurred, covering his face with his hand to block out some of the dim light coming from his night table. “Finn Nicholas _Angeles-_ Skywalker!”

 

“ _Antilles_ ,” Jess corrected.

 

“Gesundheit,” Poe replied before passing out again.

 

#

 

“Somebody . . . kill me. . . .”

 

Poe groaned and rolled away from the sunlight coming in his window. He even managed to pull one of the two pillows over his head. And that’s how he stayed, hovering about the edges of consciousness, before his bladder began to send some pretty urgent distress signals to his brain.

 

Finally, he pushed the pillow off his head, sat up gingerly, his head pounding and throbbing, his mouth tasting like grim death, and swung his bare feet to the cool, hard wood floor.

 

After sitting like that for a few minutes, staring into space, he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to his bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later feeling markedly better, though still with the throbbing headache.

 

When he got to his bed, he sat heavily, only then glancing at his night table. He noticed there was a tall glass of water, three aspirin on a napkin, and a note folded up next to the napkin, with his name on it in Pava’s sloppy-ass hand-writing.

 

Poe took the aspirin automatically and drank all the water—that Pava was a good egg . . . a good egg, indeed—then read the note:

 

**Poe—**

**You were pretty fucked up last night. I tried to get you to drink water, but you passed out before you had more than a couple sips. Anyway, stay home today, rest, recupe. Maddy is staying at Pam Maxwell’s tonight, and BB-8 will already be there, wreaking havoc with Pam’s Bichon Frise, by the time you read this note. There is nothing for you to do till evening, but chillax.**

**I will be home a little before six and I invited company for dinner at six-fifteen sharp. I am bringing take-out from _Glorioso’s,_ so you do not have to cook. Your presence would be greatly appreciated, nonetheless. Wear something nice.**

**Pava**

 

Poe put the note back on his night table. His brain could barely process daylight, let alone a note about—what? Dinner? Guests? Pam Maxwell’s Bichon Frise?

 

Grumbling to himself, Poe laid back down and was soon lost to the world.

 

#

 

The next time Poe woke up, the light shining in his east-facing window wasn’t so direct and his head was throbbing much less than it had been the last time he’d woken up.

 

He sat up gingerly, experimentally. He didn’t throw up, nor did his head start pounding like it had last time. His mouth still tasted absolutely disgusting, but not as bad as it had earlier.

 

Progress.

 

Of a sort.

 

Poe swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a few deep breaths before standing up. The room didn’t lurch or spin or anything, so he made his way to the bathroom, voided his bladder again, brushed his teeth, then took a _long_ shower.

 

He managed to not think about anything whatsoever, until he’d gone down to the kitchen to scavenge some breakfast.

 

The first thing he noticed was his phone, on the center island countertop like a mute brick.

 

Upon seeing that, everything about yesterday came rushing back—well, most of everything. The stuff that happened by the time he finished the wine, then passed out, was a blur of tears and Jess speaking to him in her kind-voice, like the one she’d used to use when Maddy was littler, and scared of something.

 

He couldn’t remember what they’d talked about, last night, only that he’d been so heart-sore about Finn being. . . .

 

Poe shook his head. It just didn’t make sense. It simply was _not_ possible . . . wasn’t it? Finn, wonderful _Finn_ couldn’t be _Ben Solo’s_ cousin, could he? There were seven-plus billion people on Earth, and Ben Solo would likely of course have _at least_ one of them for a cousin. But did that one _have_ to be _Finn_? Why did _Ben Solo_ have to have _Finn_ for a cousin and vice versa? Wasn’t there some sort of universal Law _against_ Poe dating a man then, without contriving for it to happen, to wind up falling for that man’s cousin seventeen years later?

 

Or _was_ there a Law, like Gravity or Relativity—or Murphy’s Law . . . now, _there_ was a law after Poe’s own heart—in favor of it, that Poe hadn’t heard of, which stated that a man’s odds of randomly dating his ex’s cousin were higher than average if that man’s name was _Poe_? There had to be a law like that—the _real_ law of Relativity—because that was the only thing that could explain Poe’s bad luck, right?

 

Or maybe Chaos Theory was a better fit.

 

 _It doesn’t matter_ , Poe finally told himself bitterly, _anyway_ , _even Stalin had a cousin. So, there_.

 

Checking the time—one forty-seven p.m.—Finn poured himself a big bowl of _Cap’n Crunch_ , added soymilk, and took it up to his bedroom. His phone, he left on the countertop yet again.

 

Once in bed, he ate his cereal and binge-watched the third season of _E.R._ , carefully keeping his mind off of everything that existed outside that tough, Chicago-world.

 

#

 

At five-thirty, Poe stirred himself to get dressed—a pair of grey slacks and an indigo-blue pullover—then took his bowl downstairs, put it in the sink, and went to sit in the living room and wait for Jess to get home with dinner.

 

He’d been sitting, staring off into space again for less than ten minutes when Jess’s car pulled up. He heard the car door slam, then Jess’s footsteps coming up the stoop. He got up to let her in.

 

“Thanks, Dameron,” she said, shoving one of two heavy bags, that presumably held dinner, at him. He reached for the other one, and she let him have that one, too, after a moment of deliberation.

 

“How many guests are we _having_?” he asked warily, hefting the begs. Jess didn’t look up at him; instead she struggled to get her key out of the lock, which always gave her trouble. “So I, uh, know how many places to set.”

 

“Um, just two guests. Four of us, all together.”

 

“Gotcha.” Relieved—even on a day like this Poe could handle two guests, who were probably just Jess’s colleagues—Poe took the bags to the dining room and sat them on the table, then went to the kitchen to get the dishes and cutlery.

 

While he did that, Jess ran upstairs to take the fastest shower on record and doll herself up. Poe took the food out of the bags—it _did_ smell good—and took the bags into the kitchen, leaving the containers of food arranged in the center of the large, round table.

 

The doorbell rang just as Poe came back into the dining room.

 

Sighing, then taking a moment to put on his let’s-charm-the-guests face, he walked sedately to the door and opened it. “Good evening, welcome to our ho— _Finn_?!” he exclaimed as Finn, looking just as surprised—not to mention _dapper_ in his business casual wear of black button-down shirt, formal black slacks, and a burgundy leather jacket—as Poe was. He blinked, then blinked again.

 

“ _Poe_?” Finn rubbed his eyes as if certain he was hallucinating. Then he looked back out toward the sidewalk, where a small-ish, slim young woman dressed all in greys and tans, was setting the alarm on her car. Just up the street a little, the lights on a red Prius blinked and the horn beeped.

 

Then the young woman was approaching them, her gaze going past Finn, straight to Poe. She smiled and waved. Poe automatically waved back.

 

“Rey—what the Hell is going on, here?” Finn demanded, glancing at Poe, then back at the young woman. “Is this some kind of practical joke?”

 

“Wait a minute— _you’re_ Rey? _Jess’s Rey_?” Poe asked as the young woman climbed the five steps to stand behind Finn. She put a hand on Finn’s back but her gaze never left Poe’s.

 

“For as long as she allows me to be, I am,” the young woman— _Rey_ —said with a faint English accent. “Very pleased to meet you, Aces—well, _Poe_. I’ve heard so much about you from my brother and from Jess . . . though I didn’t realize you were, well, the same person.”

 

She held out her slender hand for shaking and Poe reached for it. Her grip was strong and firm, like Finn’s, and cool. Her gaze was direct and keen.

 

“What’s going on, here? Am I missing something?” Finn demanded, looking from his sister to Poe. Then back to his sister, since of the three of them, she seemed the least surprised or discomfited.

 

“Actually, you’re missing quite a bit, the both of you,” Jess said from behind Poe, startling him into jumping. He glanced back at her. She was wearing that red sheath dress she liked—and which, Poe had to admit, looked _great_ on her—and her sable hair was a damp tumble of waves, for once free of a headband or ponytail.

 

“Explanation, please?” he asked as politely as he was able. Jess smiled, whapped his arm, and turned back into the house, heading toward the dining room.

 

“Explanations can be had over dinner. In the meantime, let’s not air all our business for the whole neighborhood to hear,” she tossed over her shoulder, as if these were just ordinary guests, just her girlfriend and . . . her girlfriend’s brother.

 

Sighing, Poe stepped back into the house, waving Finn and Rey in. “Welcome to our home,” he said, eyes firmly on his shoes, the living room window, the mantle, anywhere that wasn’t Finn’s questioning gaze.

 

#

 

Poe and Jess served dinner to their guests in a strained silence.

 

When everyone’s plates were full and everyone was seated—Poe and Finn across from each other, separated on each side by Jess and Rey, respectively—the silence remained and no one seemed to want to break it. Even by eating.

 

Finally, Jess dug into the appetizers—her favorite, Poe knew: garlic knots filled with molten mozzarella cheese—blowing to cool one off before popping it into her mouth whole.

 

And, as if a spell was broken, Finn looked at his sister, glaring, and said: “What _is_ this, Rey? Your girlfriend knows Poe?”

 

“For about sixteen years,” Jess answered, covering her mouth until she swallowed. “We were in the Air Force together, from Basic, on. He’s, uh, also the father of my daughter.”

 

Finn looked at Jess—really _looked_ at her—and his eyes widened. “Right . . . I remember from Poe’s photos . . . _you’re_ Maddy’s mother!”

 

Jess nodded. “Hole in one. So, you’re not just another pretty face.” She winked and Finn looked momentarily offended. Then he glanced at Poe warily.

 

“Did you know about—well, any of this? I mean, my sister dating your—uh—co-parent?”

 

Poe shook his head demurely. “No—no clue.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell me you have a child until weeks after we started talking.”

 

Poe flinched guiltily and Jess sat forward in her seat, about to say something cutting to Finn, no doubt, when Rey cleared her throat and put her hand on her brother’s. “Poe says he didn’t know. I believe him.”

 

Finn turned on her, yanking his hand away. “And you . . . what did _you_ know and _when_ did you know it?”

 

Rey gave her brother a frosty look. “I don’t think I care for your tone, Finn.”

 

“Oh, really? ‘Cuz I’ve got a _much_ _less_ polite tone, if you’d like to hear it.”

 

“Okay—this is getting out of control,” Jess said, holding out her hands peaceably. Poe sighed.

 

“At what point was it _under control_ , Pava? Jesus!” Poe got up and left the dining room. He meant to go up to his bedroom, but instead, went outside and sat on the front steps. If this had been the old days, he’d have had a cigarette ready for just such a jaunt. . . .

 

But he’d quit smoking after Jess got pregnant.

 

So he just sat there, staring out into the slightly chilly spring evening. He didn’t even realize he was crying till the tears rolled down his cheeks, little rills of warmth in the cool, dusky air.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, wiping his face. But more tears took their place. There seemed to be an endless supply, all of a sudden. “ _Fuck_!”

 

Just then, the door opened behind him. He didn’t even look up, thinking it was Jess—because who else _would_ it be?—until the person cleared _his_ throat.

 

“Mind if I join you?”

 

Poe looked up into Finn’s face. Couldn’t read it and gave up after a few seconds.

 

“Sure, why not? The more the merrier,” he said, trying to blink back further tears. It worked for a few seconds, anyway. And Finn, despite having sat next to Poe, wasn’t looking at him. So Poe covertly wiped his eyes and reconsidered the _holing up in his bedroom_ -idea . . . he just wanted to be alone.

 

“So, my sister and your baby-momma said they didn’t realize you and I were chatting with each other until last night,” Finn broke the awkward silence to say.  “That Jess had her suspicions from when you told her my name, and then she called Rey, and they put two and two together.”

 

Poe was so surprised, he stopped wiping his face and just stared at Finn. Soon, Finn was staring back—and frowning when he got a good look at Poe’s face. “You’re crying.”

 

“Nah. I just got something in my eye,” Poe said gruffly, and Finn was the one to snort, this time.

 

“You’ve got something in your eye, alright. It’s called _tears_.” He reached out and brushed a tear from Poe’s face with his thumb. His touch was gentle and light. “I’m sorry about what I said, back there . . . I basically implied you were a liar.”

 

“Aren’t I?” Poe laughed bitterly, but was careful not to move his face out of tear-brushing range. It felt far too good to give up just yet, despite the circumstances.

 

“I don’t think so. I think you just . . . did the best you knew how.” Finn sighed, looking out to the street as a car went by, then back to Poe. “One thing my sister and her girlfriend didn’t tell me was why.”

 

“Why?”

 

Finn nodded. “Why you ran out on me, yesterday, then wouldn’t answer my calls or texts or instant messages.”

 

Poe blushed and finally turned away from Finn’s dark, questioning eyes and gentle fingers. “What does it matter, the why? I ran out on you. Clearly I’m not boyfriend material. Hell, I’m not even one night-stand material, anymore.”

 

“Poe—”

 

“And the bitch of it is, I brought this all on myself,” Poe said ruefully, taking a risk and meeting Finn’s eyes again. “I knew this would end badly because, well, _me_. I _knew_ that, but I kept talking with you, anyway, because I really like you, and I don’t feel so alone when we’re talking, or even just texting or messaging. I—” Poe stopped speaking as Finn leaned in and pressed his lips tenderly against Poe’s. Even just that brief, soft contact felt like the Fourth of July to Poe—left his lips, his body, his _soul_ trembling for more. “I—I . . . _oh_.”

 

Finn sat back and searched Poe’s eyes, his own fierce and filled with more than a little righteous anger. “Yeah . . . _oh,_ is right. We’ve got chemistry—emotional, intellectual, and sexual—for days and days. We have _potential_. So _why’d_ you run out on me, Poe Dameron?”

 

“Finn . . . I’m sorry I left, but it’s for the best. Just trust me on this and let it go,” Poe murmured through lips that tingled still from that small, but _incredible_ kiss. “Just . . . forget it.”

 

“The Hell I will,” Finn said, but with some of that righteous anger fading, to be replaced with sadness. “I’m _in love_ with you, Poe, and I can’t just walk away from that for no reason.”

 

“There’s a reason, Finn, believe me,” Poe said, sniffing and looking down at the bottom step, his face aflame. _No one_ —certainly not _Ben-fucking-Solo_ —had ever claimed to be in love with Poe. It just couldn’t be true. Poe was the kind of guy other guys _wanted_ . . . but never wanted to _keep_. “You’ll thank me for sparing you, one day.”

 

“Not until you _tell me_ that reason. Believe you, me,” Finn said grimly. “I’m not thanking you or anyone else that keeps us apart unless there’s a _damned_ good reason.”

 

“Finn—”

 

Shaking his head, Finn’s face regained some of that righteous anger. “Tell me, Poe, or I’ll get it out of Jess or Rey. I’m betting _they’ll_ give in and tell me, if you won’t. Hell, my sister’s spoken more this evening than she has in all her life before.”

 

“Why can’t you just leave this alone?” Poe demanded, louder than he meant to. His voice seemed to echo off the other brownstones. He blushed and buried his face in his hands.

 

Finn’s arm slipped around his shoulders and he was held close, pulled against Finn’s body. Poe couldn’t help leaning into Finn’s warmth and strength, and it felt far too good to just _rest_ _there_ , like a wounded, world-weary bird finding a safe nest, at last. “I told you, I can’t leave this alone because I’m in love with you, Poe Dameron. And every time you push me away, it’s a knife in my heart.”

 

Sniffing back more tears and wiping his nose, Poe inhaled Finn’s scent . . . some kind of musk and . . . something like _gunpowder residue_? Though it’d been a long time since Poe had smelled _that_ particular scent. “If I told you, you’d probably be grossed-out and pissed-off. And you’d leave.”

 

“Well, isn’t that what you _want_ me to do? Leave?” Finn snorted, the gentle zephyr of it rustling Poe’s hair. “Seems like the fastest way to get me out of here is to tell me what’s wrong. _I_ get my answers and _you_ get rid of me. Two birds, one stone.”

 

“No, Finn, I—” Poe tried to sit up. At first Finn wouldn’t let him. Then he relented at last, reluctantly. But Poe wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t.”

 

“You _can_ , Poe . . . we _both_ deserve the truth: you to say it and me to hear it.”

 

“I. . . .” Poe couldn’t find a reply to that. He’d already lied by omission about Maddy. To lie again about something— _the thing_ —that had so casually torn them apart before they’d even had a chance to really get together, would be . . . a grievous mistake. And anyway, what was the point in hiding it? It’s not like he and Finn were a couple . . . anymore.

 

Sighing, Poe hung his head. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but . . . don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

“I’ve been duly forewarned.”

 

Poe looked up to see if Finn was joking, but the other man’s face was as solemn as a church on Sunday morning.

 

“I . . . when I was seventeen, at the beginning of senior year of high school, I met this older guy— _college_ -older—and he was everything I wanted in a boyfriend . . . or thought I wanted. Tall, dark hair, handsome . . . shredded. I swear to God, he had an eight-pack,” Poe said, laughing wryly. Then he shook himself. “Anyway, I wound up dating this guy for nearly nine months, despite the fact that we spent all the time we _weren’t_ fucking, arguing with each other. I mean, I literally let him bait me into arguments that I’d then lose, like I’d lose my temper. Nine months of that, Finn. And then, at the end of my senior year—and his senior year, in college—we were at his graduation party and he broke up with me because he was planning on going into a fairly prestigious school across the country. And he did _not_ want to do a long-distance relationship with—and I quote—‘someone too young to understand his own process, let alone mine.’”

 

“I was . . . hurt. Not that he’d applied to a school so far away, but that he’d decided to leave _me_ behind. I mean, we’d never really talked about leaving together—or much of anything else—but I always figured when he left for grad school, if he left, wherever he went, I would go with him. But he had . . . other plans. So, like any stupid kid with a broken heart, I . . . made a scene in front of everyone.” Poe fought the flush of shame that tried to spread across his face. He didn’t win. “His parents, his friends, everyone at the graduation party. I was so angry and hurt, that I kept slipping into Spanish while I yelled at him. Then, when I finally ran out of insults and recriminations, I stormed out of his parents’ house. I know he was out to them, but not if he was out to his whole family. It didn’t hit me till much later that I may have outed someone who wasn’t remotely ready to be out. I still feel guilty about that.

 

“But mostly, I’m angry at him and mortified at myself. Even after all this time, it’s still the most embarrassing point in my life.”

 

Finn pulled him close again, leaning his head on Poe’s. “Jeez, that’s—awful.”

 

Poe shivered. Because of the chill, but mostly because of Finn’s closeness and touch. “Yeah, there’s no excuse for how I behaved. I was young, but old enough to behave better than I did. Ben was right. I needed to grow up. I needed . . . a lot of things. Maturity, patience, and self-preservation instincts. A fucking _clue_!”

 

“Did you—” Finn, in the act of sitting up straight, froze, blinking at Poe. “Wait, your boyfriend, Ben . . . was _my cousin, Ben_ , wasn’t he?”

 

Poe scooted away from Finn, just enough so that they were no longer touching, and nodded. “Yes.” Shivering once more, and daring to meet Finn’s gaze, Poe spread his hands. “There it is. The whole truth, at last. I used to date, for lack of a better word, your cousin, seventeen years ago.”

 

Finn blinked, shrugged, then shimmied off his jacket. He proceeded to wrap it around Poe’s shoulders.

 

“You looked cold,” he said by way of explanation, when Poe glanced up at him with wet eyes. “You were shivering.”

 

Poe smiled a little, huddling under the body heat-warm material. “Thanks, I guess. But shouldn’t you be storming off in a fit of pique and disgust?”

 

“Why? Because you dated my cousin way back in the Stone Age?” Finn snorted again, putting his arm around Poe and pulling him close again. “I’m sorry it ended badly but, let’s face it, Ben is craze-balls. I mean, I don’t know him _that_ well, but whenever I hear anyone talk about him, it’s because he’s done something completely nutso! So, you were dating him for nine months and all you got was a crummy, in-person Dear John-letter? Count yourself lucky. He’s like the bad penny of the extended Solo-Skywalker clan.”

 

“He is?” Poe had always gotten the impression—from Ben, anyway—that he was the fair-haired boy of his family.

 

“Totally. You look up black sheep in the dictionary, and there’s Ben’s photo.” Finn laughed a little, kissing the crown of Poe’s head. “I mean, it’s not his fault none of his doctors have gotten his meds right, yet. But he’s done some outrageous stuff over the years—before _and_ after the time he was dating you, from what I’ve heard—and most of the family is just sick of him getting a pass because he has a mental illness or because he’s Bail Organa’s grandson—or both.”

 

Poe frowned, looking down at their knees, which were almost touching. “Does . . . does anyone ever talk about that ex of Ben’s who made a total ass of himself at Ben’s graduation party, that time?”

 

“Nope.” Finn leaned in closer to whisper. “No offense, Poe, but you aren’t even a blip on the family radar. At least not since I’ve been a part of the family. In the seventeen years since you two broke it off, Ben’s done some pretty out-there things that make a messy, public break-up seem like nothing.”

 

Poe shook his head in disbelief. “You mean, all this time, I’ve been dreading running into one of Ben’s relatives and, if what you say is true . . . none of them would even remember me?”

 

“Correct-a-mundo. I mean, Aunt Leia probably would, and maybe even Uncle Han. But I doubt the rest of the family would. Not even my Dads—they were still living in London, at that point. I’m sure they hadn’t adopted Rey and me, and wouldn’t for a few more years, besides.” Finn shrugged again, chuckling. “Anywho, _you’re_ not the big scandal of the Organa-Skywalker-Solo family. Far from it.”

 

Poe sighed. Finn’s jacket was still warm with Finn’s body heat, and it smelled like him, too. “So this big dust-up weighed on me for years, and . . . no one even cares?”

 

“Nope. Well, _I_ care, because I hate to think of you nursing a broken heart for seventee—”

 

“I ran off and joined the Air Force as soon as I turned eighteen because of that prick!” Poe exclaimed.

 

“Wow . . . really?”

 

“Well, sort of—I mean, I’d always been interested in flying, but I figured I’d just eventually find a flight school and do it that way!” Poe glanced at Finn, whose eyebrows were halfway to his hairline. “After _Ben-fucking-Solo_ , however, I joined the Air Force as soon as I could, which was, like, two months after we graduated!”

 

“Wow.” Finn blinked, then frowned, looking off down the street. “You must’ve been . . . devastated.”

 

“I was!”

 

“And clearly it still bothers you, now.”

 

“Well—it was my first and only heartbreak, so. . . .”

 

“Are you . . . are you still in love with Ben? Is that why you’re still so mad at him?”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Poe said, not taking his eyes off Finn, who still wouldn’t look at him. “ _Me_? Still in love with _Ben Solo_? _God_ , no! I’m no masochist!”

 

“Because if you are . . . I understand.” Finn finally looked back at Poe, smiling a little, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess we sometimes just . . . stay in love with our first loves, no matter who comes along after.”

 

 _Oh, yeah? And who was_ your _first love, oh, wise one?_ Poe was tempted to snark, but didn’t. In his heart, he knew the answer. Hell, he could see it shining out of Finn’s eyes. His entire _being_. “Sometimes, I guess, but not in this case, Finn. I loved Ben Solo—or thought I did—a long time ago. What I feel now is . . . mortified that I freaked out at his graduation party. And stupid for thinking I was the scandal of Ben’s young life, just like he was the ruin of mine.” Poe snorted ruefully. “When I think of Ben Solo, what I feel is _embarrassed_ by my behavior at the end. And my behavior while we were dating, because as messed up as he was—as our _relationship_ was—I was half of that equation. I was no innocent lambkins.”

 

Finn’s smile turned from sad to wry. “I love that you know all of my favorite obscure S.A.T. words.”

 

Poe blushed. “I _tanked_ the S.A.T.s the first time I took them. I got the fifty points they give you for spelling your own name correctly, and that was about it.”

 

Finn laughed and Poe watched him, marveling at how magnetic he was . . . how insanely good-looking and unpretentiously _intelligent_ he was. Ben, too, had been good-looking and intelligent—and even magnetic. Though some of that magnetism had just been plain old _crazy_ , it turned out.

 

But Finn . . . even though they hadn’t known each other for long, Poe got a vibe of wholesomeness and open-heartedness from Finn that Ben had probably never possessed and probably never would.

 

“I’m not in love with Ben Solo,” Poe repeated, feeling the need to make that abundantly clear, and not just to Finn. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

 

Finn searched Poe’s eyes and sighed. “Then why did you run away from me yesterday?”

 

His face red once more, Poe tugged Finn’s jacket tighter around himself. “Because I was afraid that once you found out I dated Ben, you . . . wouldn’t want me. And that even if you still did, I was more afraid that neither of us would be able to get past the fact that you’re related to a guy who basically used me until he got sick of me, then threw me away. Most of all, I was . . . afraid that breaking my heart might run in your family.”

 

Finn’s brow furrowed. “Well, just for future reference, it doesn’t matter to me that you’ve been with Ben. I recognize that you had a life before you met me, and you had a right to live it the way that seemed best to you. And anyway, how could you know that seventeen years later, you’d have the awesome opportunity to date Ben’s _adopted_ _cousin_? What would Vegas odds be on that one, huh?” That wry smile came back. “Knowing you dated Ben doesn’t make me stop wanting you. I still want you now, as much as I did the moment we met. More, even. I’m not waiting to break your heart—that does _not_ run in my family—I wanna _take care_ of your heart. Make you feel loved and wanted and needed, because you _are_. And not just by Maddy and Jess.” Swallowing, Finn looked down for a moment. “As for getting past me being related to Ben . . . that’s something I can’t do for you. Only _you_ can do that. If you want to, bad enough. If you think that what we could have would be worth that struggle.”

 

Poe sighed, looking down at his feet once more. “D-do _you_ think it’s worth the struggle?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Glancing at Finn again, Poe bit his lip and tried to weigh his options.

 

But really, it was just a long list of Pros, in block print, stacked on one side of his mind and a single Con on the other, lonely and barely legible. But it said: _Ben Solo_. It had for a long time. It’d probably _never_ said anything _else_.

 

 _Basically, I’ve been weighing every decision of my life against Ben Solo for the past seventeen years_ , Poe thought with shocked chagrin. _Maybe Ben’s not the only one who’s crazy. . . ._

Smiling ruefully, he bit back a mirthless laugh. _Jeez, I really_ do _need to grow up, and stop doing things just to spite an old boyfriend from when I was in high school. And that includes not giving Finn a chance just because they’re related. Finn’s the best thing to happen to me since Maddy . . . and the fact is, when I look at Finn, I_ don’t _see Ben or all the shit I went through with him. I just see. . . ._

 

“Finn,” Poe murmured, and the other man smiled when Poe looked up.

 

“That’s me.”

 

Nervous, Poe asked: “Would you, um . . . mind kissing me again?”

 

Still smiling, Finn darted in and kissed Poe’s mouth lightly, just a slight pressing of lips. Poe was the one to extend the kiss by leaning closer when Finn would’ve ended it. Poe was the one to part his lips with a soft, needy moan. Finn froze in surprise for a moment, then turned a little to face Poe more fully, his mouth opening as he squeezed Poe tighter and closer.

 

Soon, Finn was taking control of the kiss, exploring Poe’s mouth languidly, till Poe moaned again and sat back, breathing hard. Finn was panting and grinning, his eyes still closed.

 

“Again: _Wow_ ,” he breathed, and Poe smiled and blushed.

 

“Yeah. My thoughts, exactly,” he agreed and, quite before he’d caught his breath, leaned in for another kiss that Finn happily provided.

 

And provided.

 

And provided some more . . . until a throat was cleared above them.

 

They broke the kiss to look up. Jess was standing on the top step, smirking.

 

“If you two lovebirds are done giving the neighborhood a free show, maybe you could come inside so we can finish dinner and start cleaning up? Rey and I have tickets to a concert that starts at eight and we’d like to get there before the opening band goes on.”

 

Poe and Finn looked at each other, smiling. Finn shrugged and Poe cleared his throat. “Uh, how about you and Rey head out whenever . . . and Finn and I will finish our dinner and _we’ll_ clean up?”

 

Jess’s eyes ticked back and forth between them knowingly. “Finish dinner. _Riiiight_. Whatever. As long as things are copacetic between you two.”

 

Poe and Finn shared another glance, the former blushing and the latter grinning, as they stood up.

 

“I think they will be,” Finn murmured, and Poe nodded.

 

“I think so, too,” he added, then turned his gaze back to Jess. “We’ll be there in a minute. Oh, and, um—” Poe blushed, but met Jess’s eyes squarely. “Thanks, Pava. For . . . everything.”

 

Grinning, Jess winked. “Alright. Just don’t make me turn the hose on you two.” She went back inside, leaving the front door ajar. Poe turned his gaze back to Finn, who took Poe’s hand and linked their fingers together, as he had in the coffeehouse.

 

“So. . . .” Poe said shyly. Finn grinned.

 

“A needle pulling thread, but that’s neither here nor there.”

 

Poe chuckled as something in the region of his heart relaxed and expanded, and his anxiety somehow . . . lessened. He squeezed Poe’s fingers with his own. “You know, it’s weird, but I think we really _will_ be. Copacetic, I mean,” he said, feeling cautiously optimistic. Finn pulled Poe flush against him, wrapping his arms around Poe’s waist and leaning their foreheads together.

 

“So do I,” he murmured, swaying them both.

 

“As long as we . . . you know . . . take it slow.”

 

“Hmm . . . does that mean you won’t be putting out tonight?” Finn only half-joked, leaning back to pout at Poe.

 

Poe opened his mouth to confirm that yes, he _wouldn’t_ be putting out that night . . . but then he thought of the past two years of nothing but internet porn and Rosy Palm and her five sisters, and bit his lip again.

 

“I said we should take it _slow_ ,” he finally said, sliding his arms around Finn’s neck and moving in for another quick kiss. “Not _glacial_.”

 

“Ah.” Finn laughed and squeezed Poe tight while kissing him. The next time they came up for air, Finn nodded to the door and offered his right arm. “Shall we?”

 

Poe nodded, red as a beet and still grinning as he took Finn’s arm. “Let’s.”

 

And so they did.

 

END


End file.
